


The Maverick

by obaewankenope (rexthranduil)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drug non-con/dub-con, Drugs, Dub-con elements, I wrote a thriller instead, I'm Sorry, M/M, Obi-Wan did not have a good time okay, Palpatine is a creep, Rape Mentions, This was only meant to be about coffee and happiness, Trauma, coffee shop AU, kidnap, non-con mentions, sorry.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 07:46:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 53,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7565938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexthranduil/pseuds/obaewankenope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On February 23rd, 2015 Obi-Wan Kenobi met Qui-Gon Jinn. Desire, want, need, and necessity unfortunately do not correspond to each other and Obi-Wan's life is turned upside down when his past comes back to haunt him. Forced to confront things he had long-since buried, Obi-Wan may lose everything he holds dear because of a mistake he made six years ago. Qui-Gon Jinn has to decide if he is willing to walk down a path that will risk his very life for the sake of love.</p><p>This was only meant to be a happy coffee shop au, instead it turned into an accidental crime thriller. Apologies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Maverick

**Author's Note:**

> Erin (@ricooola on tumblr) challenged me to write a coffee shop au. I accepted the challenge and perhaps I shouldn't have.
> 
> This has taken me twenty-five days to write with the last of it being written today. I'm dead. I'm done. I'm- I'm. I'm so damned happy to have finished this tbh.
> 
> P.S: If anyone can guess _where_ this is based (do not say "UK" you ass) I'll give them a cookie and a one-shot or sth of their choice.

It was a well-known fact that _The Maverick_ was the best place in the city to set-up shop during finals season. The café served anyone and everyone, no matter what time it was. A unique sort of establishment, with a quaint atmosphere, _The Maverick_ was a die-hard favourite of students at the local universities. Even though the street it was located on was off the main-beat of the high street, it was popular simply due to word-of-mouth. And the copious number of students swarming the street throughout the day.

Originally it had begun as a single room, with a small kitchenette sporting only an old coffee-maker and a dozen or so mugs and cups. That had been ten years ago, back in the early 2000s. Fortunately, a student had stumbled across the café one day, ducking inside to avoid the truly shitty weather throwing them around like a leaf, and had been charmed by the quiet atmosphere: the old mugs, the scent of coffee in the air, and the delicate music emanating from a small radio by the register.

It only took six months for the revenue of _The Maverick_ to rocket, and it extended into the two empty shops fronts on either side of it. After ten years however, _The Maverick_ spanned three floors, four shop-fronts and had a kitchen fit for a five-star restaurant. Although it was such a sprawling establishment, and catered to so many students, _The Maverick_ was still relatively unknown to the city at large.

And that was precisely how its owner liked it.

The student body of the local universities shared the knowledge of _The Maverick_ café in a manner similar to how knowledge of a banned book would be shared: through careful comments, and encrypted WhatsApp messages that usually ran in the vein of “ _hey you wanna get a drink this Friday? Know this cool place off the high street, major atmosphere. You’ll love it_ ” that piqued the interest of friends and fellow students alike.

It had a delicate atmosphere: the rooms of the café separate from each other, full of oddities and strange objects from the various travels of its owner in his youth. Some of them fascinated the students, others horrified them yet they still returned to _The Maverick_ , usually with friends whom they’d expose to the horrors sat on the shelves of the café while grinning and cackling.

The distraction from the never-ending stress of finals, usually by a randomly appearing coffee or steaming mug of tea at your side, was one of the many unique habits of _The Maverick's_ owner that so endeared the students to him. His general demeanour was often misleading, as most of the students would at first believe him to be a dour, gloomy man. Tall to the point of abnormal, he rarely smiled or laughed to the extent most expected a café owner would, but he possessed a gentle air.

Everyone who entered _The Maverick_ adored its owner, not only for his amazing coffee and tea-making skills, but also for the manner in which he comported himself: kind and polite, listening to any and all complaints, issues, or problems anyone had no matter what time of day or night it happened to be.

Whenever a student would enter the café, looking for all the world like they were on their last legs, he’d appear by their side, guiding them to some small, secluded part of the café – filled with plush cushions and soft pastel walls – where they could cocoon themselves in throws, burrow into the mountain of cushions and scream their frustrations into the upholstery.

Qui-Gon Jinn was every student’s saviour dressed in a deep green shirt, faded long brown cardigan that clung to his arms and shoulders, and washed out black denim jeans tucked into Doc Martin boots that had seen him through many a year. Hair long enough to reach half-way down his back, usually half braided in a single tail, with piercing blue eyes that could freeze a person to the spot – or mesmerise them into spilling every worry, doubt, secret or problem they had – Qui-Gon Jinn looked, and acted, like he’d walked out of Woodstock one day and forgot to go back.

Whenever a new semester would start, first year and international students would be guided, almost like sheep, by the rest of the student body in the direction of Jinn and his café, usually through misleading promises of free cake or joining a society. Most of the time they weren’t disappointed, but sometimes there were some newcomers who, for some reason, took an instant dislike to Jinn or _The Maverick’s_ mixed atmosphere and stylistic design.

They quickly learnt to avoid both the café _and_ its owner – usually as a result of discovering that Qui-Gon Jinn, while genial and polite at all times, could pack one hell of a punch when pressed.

Sometimes students avoided _The Maverick_ because they were forced to by friends who decided that it was unwise for them to spend every waking moment in the damned café when they had “ _that research paper due on Monday, so stop drooling and start writing!_ ”

Obi-Wan Kenobi avoided _The_ _Maverick_ for neither of these reasons.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

23rd February, 2015:

The Central Library was beautiful. An eclectic mix of the original design of the library and the more modern architectural and design-styles favoured in the 21st century, it was filled with thousands of books. The atrium was one of the most amazing things Obi-Wan had ever seen when he’d first walked in as an undergrad.

Looking up, spiralling staircases, circled down from the central, domed skylight. Each floor covering topics ranging from sci-fi and fantasy to autobiographies and engineering, it was truly amazing to walk around and see the sheer size and complexity of the library.

But the place Obi-Wan loved the most, mainly for its nostalgic feel, was the Reading Room.

He was usually found there daily, head buried in a book, laptop beside him, pad of paper with hastily scribbled notes in a terrifying scrawl that was barely legible for all that it was beautiful to look at.

It had a quiet feel to it, a hush that settled deep into his bones and made all the work and stress of studying seem lesser, to the point where he’d find himself wandering the sides of the room, looking at the various books and reading random pages from old volumes.

Unfortunately, his habit of working in the room meant he was easy to find if one knew him well enough.

“I still don't understand why you don’t want to come with us Obi-Wan,” Bant, one of Obi-Wan's longest friends, complained. Sprawled out next to him, hair tumbling over her shoulders and down the length of the chair she had graciously collapsed into, Bant looked like she didn’t have a care in the world. “It's not like it's a den of sinfulness.”

At twenty-four, Bant Eerin was the fourth member of her family to attend university, studying for a Master’s degree in Applied Psychology, and she was usually found at the side of either Obi-Wan Kenobi or Garen Muln and his boyfriend Reeft Dressel, making sure they didn’t lose their collective minds over whatever they were studying that semester.

Obi-Wan loved her like a sister. An annoying, nagging sister who was always going on about how little time he spent doing anything other than studying. Not that it mattered that he was part of a half-dozen clubs and societies, or that he worked part-time at the local Tesco near their shared house. Nope. He was apparently a recluse who didn’t know how to have fun according to Bant _and_ Garen alike. Reeft, wisely, remained neutral during the shouting matches.

“If it were, I'd probably consider it,” Obi-wan muttered, not looking up from the research article he was painstakingly highlighting. There were so many mistakes and contradictions, how did _anyone_ even let this get published in a peer-reviewed article? It was maddening, especially when he’d been given it as work for the weekend. God but his lecturer hated him, he was sure of it.

At twenty-four, Obi-Wan was on track to complete his Master’s degree and take up a Doctorate by the end of the year, after breezing through his undergrad course with some of the best grades of the university, he was looking forward to graduating. If he didn’t snap and murder his friends first.

“Garen will be _delighted_ to hear that,” Bant grinned, jiggling her leg, foot thumping against the ground. Someone from the table next to them looked up and frowned at her. She ignored them but did stop bouncing her leg. “Seriously Obi. Why won't you come with us?”

Obi-Wan sighed, pushing the article away from him and leant back in his chair, arms stretching over his head as he did, back cracking audibly. He really needed to stop leaning over his work like that, it was causing havoc with his back.

“I just don't feel like going anywhere tonight.” Obi-Wan had a look of long suffering on his features. “I really want to get as much done as possible before the break. Professor Yoda is a hard taskmaster and if I don’t manage to get everything done, I’ll spend the holidays working through stuff when I could be having fun with you lot instead.”

Bant sighed, tossing herself forward and pinned Obi-Wan with a sharp stare. “Obi-Wan. If you don't give yourself some time to relax, you're going to burn yourself out.”

Obi-Wan smiled, amused despite the worry he could see in Bant’s aquamarine eyes. “I won't. There's only two more papers for me to read and review after this one. And then that extra paper I'm writing for research. Once that's done, I'm finished for the semester. I promise.”

The dubious look Bant gave him clearly showed how little she believed him.

“I will seriously drag you out of this library kicking-and-screaming if I have to Obi.” Bant warned, pointing a threatening finger at him. “It is not okay for you to be working yourself to the bone like this, but you never listen to me until you’ve collapsed from not sleeping for _five_ _damned_ _days_.”

“And you'd get banned from ever setting foot back in here if you did.” Obi-wan pointed out, smirking when Bant rolled her eyes and slapped him on the arm. “That wasn’t my fault by the way. That was that sedative the dentist gave me. I only thought I’d been up for two days.” Obi-Wad added.

“No. That was just the excuse your brain needed to keep you up for five days, so you could read through your course books and point out all the inaccuracies and contradictions in the research mentioned in them.” Bant countered, shaking her head in fond amusement.

Those five days, for all that they joked about them, had been some of the most worrying days of their entire friendship. The fact that Obi-Wan had passed out, slept for over twenty hours and then woken up to realise it had been five, not two days since he’d last slept had been… interesting to say the least.

Garen had officially been named as the person charged with making sure Obi-Wan slept at least six hours every two days. So far he’d had to force his friend to bed no less than six times in the last three months. Garen at least saw the funny side of it, joking that it gave him practice with convincing the unwilling to “ _go the fuck to sleep_ ” when told.

Obi-Wan sighed and smiled at Bant, waving a hand in a shooing motion. “Anyway, go. Go have some fun with Garen and Reeft.  I'll be back at the house later tonight, I promise.”

Bant stared at him silently for a long moment before she rolled her eyes.

“Try to get back some time _before_ midnight this time Obi,” Bant sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stood. She stared down at him and grinned. “Garen is fielding bets that you have yourself a sugar daddy.”

“What!?” Obi-wan spluttered as Bant laughed and sauntered away.

“See you later Obi!” Bant called, grinning back at him over her shoulder as he glared at her.

Someone in the room shushed her and glared at Obi-Wan, as though _he_ could do anything about Bant being a little shit.

“Wench,” Obi-Wan muttered, pulling the article back towards him and picking up another highlighter. “Absolute _wench_.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Obi-Wan ran down the path outside the Central Library, shoulders raised and head down, as rain fell from the sky and soaked him. Damn it all, he’d only bothered with a thin hoodie, hadn’t seen the point in lugging around a proper coat or an umbrella since it had been such a nice day.

 _‘That’ll fucking teach me,’_ he thought darkly as he ran through the rain, trying to stick as close to the buildings as possible. The height of the buildings buffeted the fierce winds that had swept in with the rain, but otherwise they were pretty damned useless at limiting the amount of rain he was exposed to. _‘Of all days to forget my bus pass as well.’_

He cut through a narrow street, trying to avoid the open space of the main high street he’d usually walk down towards the bus station, and let out a string of curses when he tripped over a pothole, twisting his ankle.

“Shit! _Fuck!_ Son of an illegitimate bastard out on a drink-induced sex bender!”

Sitting up, Obi-Wan looked at his ankle in the dim light of the street lamp at the end of the street, grimacing in pain at the spike of pain that shot through the joint.

“Fucking brilliant,” he muttered. “That’ll teach me to pay attention to where I’m fucking running.”

“Do you usually insult yourself?”

Obi-Wan’s head snapped up, eyes wide and startled, and he stared in surprise at the man leaning against the open door of the shop he’d fallen in front of.

“Not usually no,” Obi-Wan replied politely, gingerly testing his ankle and wincing at the pain. Walking home was going to be next to impossible for a while apparently. Great.

The rain, previously falling in sheets, had lessened and Obi-Wan found that he didn’t need to shout to be heard. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Ah, so this is a special occasion then?” The man asked amused, and Obi-Wan felt his face warm in embarrassment. Fucking hell, he was soaking wet, freezing and he could _still_ blush! What the ever-loving fuck?

There was a lilt to the man’s words: soft rolls on the r’s and t’s that had Obi-Wan thinking of home. It was slight, barely noticeable. Irish maybe?

He couldn’t even see the face of whoever it was who was so amused by his cursing, but the fact that the man’s head seemed to be almost touching the top of the doorframe he was leaning against made Obi-Wan realise how awkwardly dangerous his situation was.

He wasn’t weak or defenceless by any means, and at 5’10 he was a decent enough height that Obi-Wan usually wasn’t too concerned when he was involved in a brawl or fight with Garen on his rare nights out. But right now he was injured, clearly unable to stand on his right leg, and alone.

“No more special than the weather deciding to be a twat and trying its best to kill me,” Obi-Wan replied, not letting a hint of his sudden wariness, or tension, show. Whoever this guy was, he was being polite and keeping a fair distance from Obi-Wan, so he was going to remain calm and _not_ panic like a fucking idiot.

Yet.

The man chuckled lightly, his voice a rich baritone that, under other circumstances Obi-Wan would be happy to listen to. Okay, so it was still nice to listen to regardless.

“You hurt your leg?” The man asked, though the way he said it made it sound more like a statement of fact than a question.

Obi-Wan frowned.

“It’s nothing serious,” he deflected, shrugging a shoulder casually.  The pain in his ankle was an unpleasant accompaniment to the cold rain still falling and Obi-Wan felt like cursing at his luck. It was honestly ridiculous how unlucky he was sometimes.

He could breeze through an assault course for charity, dodging everything thrown at the contestants without breaking a sweat. He could get to class ten-minutes early and get the best seat in the lecture theatre without having to worry about offending anyone, or stealing their unofficial seat. But he _couldn’t_ manage to get home after being kicked out of the library without being caught by bad weather and injuring himself.

Fucking hilarious.

“If you can walk three feet I’ll believe you,” the man replied, arms folded and Obi-Wan stared at him.

Seriously?

“And if I can’t?” Obi-Wan asked challengingly, raising an eyebrow as he stared at the man. The light from the street lamp was useless for him to really see the man’s features, and the light from what looked to be a lamp or something behind him didn’t help Obi-Wan discern his features either. But both light sources made it easy for the other man to see Obi-Wan’s face.

“Then I’ll have to carry you home,” the man said casually, shrugging a shoulder and Obi-Wan gritted his teeth.

Great.

“I’m fine.” Obi-Wan declared firmly, managing to climb to his feet and wobble dangerously. Then he stepped forward defiantly and let out a sharp cry as his ankle twisted again and he fell to the ground again in a heap, backpack slamming into his back and making him wince.

“Shit!”

A hand came down on his shoulder and Obi-Wan jerked backwards, staring up at the man who had come over and crouched beside him.

“I’m afraid I don’t _see_ that you’re fine at all,” the man said, and now that he was closer Obi-Wan could make out his face.

Long hair, some of it loose but most of it pulled back, rapidly darkening from what looked like a pale brown as it soaked up the rain. Pale, long face with light stubble and a well-kept beard. Eyes that looked like they could be blue or green in daylight. Lips quirked in a smile, raised eyebrow completing the picture of a man who had patiently indulged Obi-Wan’s stubborn wilfulness.

Obi-Wan stared, momentarily forgetting that he was essentially sat on the cobblestone ground, soaked to the bone, with a twisted ankle and a dead phone.

 _‘Shit,’_ he thought as the man reached out with his other hand and hauled Obi-Wan up, arm sliding around his waist as he pulled him against his side. _‘Oh double fucking shit.’_

“How do I know you’re not some weirdo trying to kidnap me?” Obi-Wan asked bluntly, even as he allowed the man to guide him towards the open doorway. He leaned against the other man, tense and wary but also so very aware of the heat the man was radiating.

Stupid rain.

The man huffed out a quiet laugh and didn’t answer, something that did little to reassure Obi-Wan. He wondered if he could wrench himself free and run, even with a bum ankle, but figured not. He couldn’t even _walk_ let alone _run_.

“Why would I kidnap you?” The man asked as they hobbled through the doorway the man had been leaning against.

Looking around Obi-Wan realised the shop was actually a café, and a pretty nice looking one at that.

 _‘Still doesn’t mean he’s not some weirdo,’_ Obi-Wan thought as the man guided him over to a plush armchair a few feet from the door. He gingerly sat down, trying not to jostle his ankle, and stared up at the man.

“Why would you watch as some hapless student had an unfortunate meeting with the ground thanks to shitty council work?” Obi-Wan countered. “Seems pretty weird to me.”

“You have a distorted worldview,” the man replied simply, lips quirking in a smile and Obi-Wan fought the urge to scowl. “Wait here. I’ll get you some ice for your ankle.”

Before Obi-Wan could say anything, the man disappeared through another door at the far end of the small café, presumably into the kitchen for some ice.

 _‘Or a big fucking knife,’_ Obi-Wan thought darkly, glancing at the entrance and then back at the kitchen door. _‘Fuck it.’_

Not bothering to wait around, Obi-Wan forced himself to stand up, gritting his teeth as he hobbled towards the door, using the furniture as an aid. He managed to reach the door quickly, and he carefully opened it, ears sharp as he listened to the sounds of the man riffling around in his kitchen.

 _‘Thanks but I’m not sticking around to be murdered,’_ Obi-Wan thought dryly as he edged out of the door and out into the street.

He hobbled away from the shop, leaning against the wall for support.

Obi-Wan knew he had enough money to get the bus back to the house, but hoped Garen or Bant would be home and waiting for him – they usually were – so he decided to take a chance.

At the end of the street there was a taxi rank, and he waved a hand at the closest black hack with its light on.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

24th February, 2015:

“I’m sorry, you wanna back up there a minute Obi-Wan and actually say that _again_?” Garen stared at his friend who looked like a right sorry state.

It was early next morning and Obi-Wan was sat on the sofa of their house, right ankle swollen and aching, leg raised with a cushion beneath the knee and ankle as he tried not to move too much. There was an ice pack resting on his ankle, the cold seeping into the swollen tissue and numbing it.

It was a welcome-relief to the near constant throbbing he’d put up with throughout the night.

When he’d arrived home Obi-Wan had been fortunate that Reeft had been up, the only one of their friends still awake, and he’d clung to his friend as Reeft paid the taxi fare and helped him into the house.

He’d crawled into bed, not even bothering with the painkillers Reeft tried to give him, and passed out within minutes.

Right now he was really cursing the fact he hadn’t bothered to take something last night.

“I’m not going to class today,” Obi-Wan repeated, too exhausted and in pain to glare at his friend.

So he hadn’t ever called in sick or missed a class since he’d started university four years ago as an undergrad. So he hadn’t, even when he’d ended up with pneumonia from a truly unwise dip in a Scottish lake during a weekend away. So that he’d only ever missed on deadline – due to some truly shitty circumstances – and had even done extra work to make up for missing said deadline in the first place.

“Holy shit are you dying?” Garen asked, dropping down on the sofa next to Obi-Wan, staring at him in confusion and concern. “You’re not are you?”

“Jesus Christ Garen _no_!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, staring at his friend in amazement. “I’ve really fucked my ankle up okay. I don’t want to make it any damned worse going to a class I’ve already done all the work for okay? _God_.”

Garen stared at him, eyes wide. “So… you’re _not_ dying then?”

“No!”

“Oh, okay then.” Garen let out a breath and grinned. “Well then, have fun dealing with dearest Bant! I shall take full advantage of the fact that I’ll have our study table all to myself and scribble obscenities on your side just for you.”

“I hate you.” Obi-Wan glared at the taller man, his glare intensifying when all Garen did was laugh. “I really do. A lot.”

“Uh-huh, and I’m the Dean of Students.” Garen ruffled Obi-Wan’s hair, cackling when Obi-Wan growled and shoved at him. “See you later Obi-Wan. Try _not_ to further injure yourself or Bant’ll never let you out of her sight again!”

“I hate you!” Obi-Wan called after him as Garen left the room, slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he did.

Garen’s answering laugh as he left the house only served to make Obi-Wan curse and promise revenge.

“Asshole,” he muttered, head resting against the back of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. “Absolute _fucking_ _asshole_.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

17th March, 2015:

“Thank God and all the Saints the fucking semester is over!” Garen shouted, grinning in elation.

“Try to shout louder Garen, I don’t think they heard up on the other side of campus.” Reeft grinned at his boyfriend who was standing, hands raised to the sky.

“I think they heard that on the other side of town,” Bant commented, smiling as she leaned against Obi-Wan’s side and watched as Garen spun around and picked Reeft up, spinning him around. “Cute.”

“Nauseating more like.” Obi-Wan smirked, eyes bright with amusement. “Hey knock it off! You’ll put me off my lunch!” He hollered when Garen kissed Reeft, still spinning around in circles.

“You’re just jealous you can’t get a piece of _this_ anymore.” Garen shot back, grinning as he dropped Reeft back to the ground, arm draped across Reeft’s shoulders.

“More like thankful,” Obi-Wan replied, grinning in amusement when Garen mimed being shot. “Let Reeft put up with you you intolerable man.”

“I put up with him quite well.” Reeft smirked. “I’ve got him house-trained and everything.”

“Well done,” Bant said, smirking at how Garen spluttered indignantly. “That must have taken some work.”

“It all depends on the incentive,” Reeft mock-whispered, as though he were revealing some big secret.

“You’re all horrible people to me and I don’t know why I put up with any of you,” Garen said, pretending to be offended as he crossed his arms and raised his head high.

“Well there’s always Bruck and his gang to hang out with down at the uni gym.” Obi-Wan pointed out helpfully, grinning sharply when Garen glared at him.

“I’d rather have a month of one-to-one’s with Windu thanks,” Garen said dryly, causing them to laugh.

Doctor Mace Windu _hated_ Garen with a passion. Not because Garen was a bad student or anything like that. He didn’t even hate him for any sort of petty reason. No. Doctor Windu hated Garen Muln because of a _prank_ Garen had pulled on the Science Department back in his first year of undergrad.

It had become part of the student mythos, shared by undergrads and grads alike, taking on an almost legendary status. Only Obi-Wan, Bant and Reeft knew all the details and none of them would ever willingly share it with anyone.

Doctor Windu was a scary son of a bitch when he wanted to be, and _none_ of them wanted to be on his radar like Garen was. Obi-Wan especially since he’d been the one to actually help Garen pull the prank in the first place.

He _liked_ living thank you very much.

“Where are we gonna go for lunch then?” Reeft asked, checking his phone. “It’s almost eleven now. Town?”

“Yeah town.” Bant agreed, taking Obi-Wan by the arm and steering him in the direction of the bus stop. “Obi-Wan still hasn’t been to _The Maverick_ yet.”

“Really?” Reeft asked, he and Garen following along behind. “I thought you would have gone there on your own at some point, it’s on one of the side-streets near the library.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I haven’t really had the time. The only café I’ve been in near the library that _wasn’t_ a Costa was when I took a burton and ended up screwing up my ankle for three days.”

“Where _was_ that anyway?” Garen asked as they watched the bus come to a stop at the bus stop, a dozen or so fellow students already milling about.

“I don’t know, not far from _The Shankly_ , why?” Obi-Wan replied, glancing back at Garen just as he stepped onto the bus, showing the driver his pass.

“ _The Maverick_ isn’t too far from there, on Williamson Street,” Bant answered, plopping down on one of the seats near the front of the bus.

Obi-Wan sat down beside her, Garen and Reeft in front of them. Garen twisted in his seat to stare at them, Reeft turning his head.

“Maybe you met the owner and ran away like a chicken.” Garen laughed, grinning when Obi-Wan scowled at him. “It’d be just your luck to be honest.”

“Don’t fucking remind me,” Obi-Wan muttered, shaking his head as he checked his phone. No messages. “What’s the point in having a phone and _telling_ your brother to message you when he’s out of school when he doesn’t actually bother to do so?”

“Ani’s fourteen isn’t he?” Reeft asked, continuing when Obi-Wan nodded. “Most kids that age don’t really bother with considering what their family are thinking about, especially teenagers like Ani.”

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan asked, trying to keep his voice level and not allow his instinctive protectiveness to colour his words. He didn’t want to get into an argument with Reeft.

“He’s a smart kid Obi-Wan.” Reeft explained patiently. “Being smart academically doesn’t necessarily mean having a lot of _common sense_ though.”

“Yeah, you don’t have any after all.” Garen pointed out, grinning when Obi-Wan flipped him off.

“So you think he just forgot?” Obi-Wan asked, glancing down at his phone with a frown. “Should I text _him_ then?”

“Are you heading home for the break or are you going to stay in town?” Garen questioned. “Because if you’re gonna stay here, it might be awkward if you go ‘ _hey! Done for the term! Gonna stay in the city and get wasted lmao! Have fun and tell mum I love her!_ ’ but maybe not.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I’m not going to stay here for the entirety of the break. Just for the first week or so.”

“Then just message him and tell him you’re sticking around to finish off anything you’ve got outstanding, and that you’ll be home next week.” Bant suggested, nudging him with her arm and smiling at him. “It’s Ani. He’ll be happy you even thought to contact him.”

“You’re right.” Obi-Wan smiled slightly. “He’s going to drive me mad with whatever insane idea he’s come up with this time. You know he’s been working on this phone app called C-3PO? Won’t even tell me what it’s about, only that it’s ‘ _way smarter than most people_ ’ and is going to annoy the hell out of me? He seemed really proud of that part.”

They all laughed at that, before moving on to talk about other things. Garen firmly believed he’d bombed his latest in-class test. Reeft thought his oral presentation had gone pretty well. And Bant was pleased with her mark for her essay.

Only Obi-Wan had a lot to talk about academically, thanks to Professor Yoda assigning him extra work just before the end of term. There had been no real reason behind the act and Obi-Wan was loathe to consider just why Professor Yoda kept on hitting him with so much work.

The group of four friends left the bus, laughing and joking as they walked down the streets towards _The Maverick_. Obi-Wan, for the most part, didn’t notice anything familiar about the route they were taking, and said as much.

“Maybe not then.” Garen shrugged before turning down another street, this one narrower, with cobblestone flooring.

Obi-Wan frowned. The cobblestone was familiar, but there were a lot of streets in the city that had cobblestone, so it wasn’t unusual. The road outside the Central Library was all cobblestone and limestone slabs. He’d stumbled on the fucking thing enough times to know that.

“Welcome!” Garen exclaimed dramatically, waving an arm toward a café. “To _The Maverick_!”

Outside there were a dozen or so small tables, each with two chairs. They were all being used by students, many of them from their university, but some of them came from one of the other universities in the city.

Obi-Wan said nothing, feeling somewhat uncomfortable as he walked into the café after Garen and Bant, Reeft behind him. The doorframe was a deep mahogany colour, stained that colour rather than actual mahogany. There was no bell above the door and the floor was a pale beige tile. The walls of the small café were a mixture of browns and beiges: coffee tones.

It was well done and understated, but Obi-Wan could see through another doorway to his right more ostentatious colours of red, green, blue and yellow of varying shades and intensities. Obi-Wan realised that _The Maverick_ was a far bigger café than it first appeared.

 _‘This can’t be the place I ended up at the other day,’_ he thought, following his friends over to an empty booth. There was a single, empty cup at the end of the table and Obi-Wan frowned.

Was it too much for someone to just hand it to whoever was at the register when they left?

“Don’t bother, someone will be over in a minute anyway,” Garen said, pulling Obi-Wan into the booth and forcing him to sit. “Seriously, the owner pays his staff to clean up after his customers, and most of them are decent enough to not leave shit lying around okay.”

“Fine, _fine_.” Obi-Wan held up his hands in a universal gesture of surrender. “So, who exactly _is_ the owner of this place anyway?”

“Oh he’s really nice and polite, you’ll like him,” Reeft answered, staring at the food menu he’d plucked from the rack at the end of the table. The twenty-three year-old was never one to turn down an opportunity to eat. Obi-Wan envied the fact that his friend could eat enough to comatose most people but never suffered any ill effects for it.

“He doesn’t really talk to people that much, but he’s honestly so nice Obi.” Bant agreed messaging someone, probably Siri Tachi, on her phone as she spoke. “He’s got all this awesome stuff on the other floors, says he went travelling a lot in his twenties and collected all sorts of stuff.”

“Some of that shit is seriously creepy.” Garen grinned. “I’m pretty certain he’s got a voodoo doll up on the second floor.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, interested in it all despite himself. _‘At least I know this isn’t the place from before,’_ he thought dryly. _‘Nothing creepy around.’_

“What will you be having today?”

Obi-Wan froze.

That voice.

Holy shit, _that voice._

“I’ll have a white mocha with cinnamon sprinkles please, and a muffin,” Bant said, looking up and smiling beautifully.

“Latte with a bacon sandwich please,” Garen said, grinning widely.

“Same but with a sausage sandwich as well thanks,” Reeft continued, placing the menu back on the rack.

“And you?”

Obi-Wan looked up _. ‘Oh shit.’_

“Uh, tea. Early Grey, thank you,” Obi-Wan replied, trying not to betray anything of what he was feeling. _‘Oh shit, oh shit. Oh fucking shit.’_

The man smiled and Obi-Wan blinked. “No problem. I’m Qui-Gon by the way. I own the place.”

Obi-Wan nodded dumbly, aware that his friends were watching him.

“You didn’t stick around long enough for me to tell you that last time,” Qui-Gon continued and Obi-Wan cringed mentally. “Or for me to find that ice pack.”

“Uh yeah.” Obi-Wan stared awkwardly at Qui-Gon. “Sorry.”

Qui-Gon smiled. “It’s fine. I could have been a-” He paused for a second before continuing, eyes bright with mirth. “Weirdo trying to kidnap you after all.”

Garen choked, laughing silently as Obi-Wan coloured in embarrassment.

_‘Fuck. My. Life.’_

“I promise not to do anything ‘weird’ to your drink…” Qui-Gon trailed off, looking at Obi-Wan with a mildly expectant air.

“Obi-Wan,” he blurted, trying not to cringe at how pathetically awkward he sounded. _‘God, just kill me now.’_

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon repeated, smiling widely and Obi-Wan forgot to breathe.

He watched numbly as Qui-Gon walked away, weaving between the students milling about in the café, and disappeared through the same door Obi-Wan had watched him go through the other night.

“Oh shit,” he breathed out, not even bothered when Garen began laughing loudly, dropping his head onto the table with a thud. “ _Oh shit_.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

21st March, 2015:

After the first time Obi-Wan was _properly_ introduced to the owner of _The Maverick_ , he found every opportunity and excuse to avoid going to the café again. He wasn’t worried – or scared, _shut up_ Garen – of how Qui-Gon would behave after his truly impolite first meeting with the man. Not in the slightest, the man was politeness personified.

No, in short, Obi-Wan Kenobi was absolutely mortified by his behaviour and the embarrassment he felt every time he even _thought_ about Qui-Gon Jinn.

Garen wasn’t helping matters either, the ass.

“Honestly Obi-Wan, the man isn’t going to toss you out onto the street you know!” Garen exclaimed, pushing Obi-Wan off the sofa onto the floor. The taller man stood beside the sofa, arms crossed as he stared down at Obi-Wan, sprawled on the carpet.

“Oi!” Obi-Wan glared at the other man, honest anger sparking in his eyes. “Just _drop_ _it_ Garen.” He warned, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Not until you tell me why you don’t want to go back.” Garen shook his head. “It’s not like you’ve got a crush on the man or anything-”

Obi-Wan cursed the fact that he was blessed with pale skin as Garen stopped mid-sentence and stared at him. “Holy shit.”

“Shut up!” Obi-Wan growled, sitting up fully and grabbing a pillow from the sofa, chucking it viciously at his friend’s face.

“Holy _shit_!” Garen grinned, ducking the flying projectile. “You’ve got the hots for Jinn!”

“Fuck! I hate you!” Obi-Wan snarled, scrambling up and throwing himself at Garen. The pair of them rolled around the floor of the front room, grappling as Obi-Wan swore and cursed Garen, who cackled and fended off Obi-Wan’s attempts to murder him.

 “You’re the worst fucking friend _ever_!” Obi-Wan shouted as Garen finally pinned him, the other man using his greater height and weight to his advantage. “Get off you overgrown fucking termite!”

Garen grinned, hands pinning Obi-Wan’s wrists to the ground, straddled across his waist. “That’s not nice Obi-Wan.”

“I’ll show you ‘ _not nice’_ you fucking asshole.” Obi-Wan promised, glaring up at Garen who smirked at him.

“You know, when you’re in a bad mood, you get downright vulgar Obi-Wan,” Garen commented, tilting his head as he watched Obi-Wan try to twist out of his grip. Still smirking. he pressed down harder on Obi-Wan’s wrists as the shorter man tried to escape.

“You’d better lock your damned door tonight you wank tassel,” Obi-Wan said, giving up trying to escape Garen’s grip. The fucking asshole was too fucking heavy for him to throw him off.

Bastard. He should never have agreed to sparring with him at their weekly visit to the gym.

“Yeah, yeah. You need some new threats Obi-Wan,” Garen said airily, rolling his eyes in amusement.

 _‘I’ll give you “new threats” you shit,’_ Obi-Wan thought darkly, slumping against the ground in abject defeat. _‘You’re going to hate existence by the time I’m done with you.’_

“What are you two _doing_ in here?” Bant asked as she walked into the front room, towel wrapped around her, hair dripping. She never bothered to wrap it in a towel, citing that it took way too long to dry otherwise and pulling it back into a ponytail saved her time and effort. Either way, Obi-Wan didn’t complain. He had access to more towels that way.

“Obi-Wan’s got the hots for Jinn over at _The Maverick_ ,” Garen answered over Obi-Wan’s shouted threats to end him, grinning widely at Bant when she blinked.

Bant stared down at Obi-Wan who groaned. “Huh. Thought so.”

“Wait what!?” Obi-Wan exclaimed, staring up at her in abject horror, thoughts of murdering Garen temporarily forgotten. “What the fuck do you mean ‘thought so’ Bant? What the hell?”

“Well it’s kinda obvious Obi,” Bant said, moving to sit on the chair opposite them both. She tilted her head to the side as she pulled the band she kept on her wrist off and pulled her hair back into a simple tail. “Most people get awkward and stutter, or blush a lot when they like someone. You’re ten times as polite and sarcastic, usually immediately after you’ve had that whole ‘oh shit he’s hot’ revelation though.”

 “I’m not fucking Squidward!” Obi-Wan cried out, managing to wrench his arms out of Garen’s grip, violently, and push his friend off him. Garen tumbled onto the carpet beside him, resting on his elbows as he stared at Obi-Wan.

Using the sofa for support, Obi-Wan levered himself to his feet and stared down at Garen.

“No, Squidward is nicer company right now,” Garen agreed, blithely ignoring Obi-Wan’s glare. “Bant’s right though. When you were with that prick Xan, you were so polite it was fucking creepy. That’s your habit though, I mean.” Garen paused. “You were like that as well with-”

“Stop. Now.” Obi-Wan ground out, cutting Garen off who looked at him with that damned pitiful look on his face. Obi-Wan stood in the middle of the front room, face near white with anger or fear, or maybe a bit of both, shoulders taught and jaw clenched so tightly his teeth hurt.

“Obi-Wan,” Bant said softly, staring at him with wide, sympathetic eyes. “You can’t your last relationship you stop you from being happy.” She smiled softly, a sad smile that made Obi-Wan want to hiss and hide away from her pity.

Obi-Wan felt an irrational relief that they only knew of his most recent attempt at a relationship. If they knew the real reason most of his relationships failed… well Obi-Wan doubted they’d be so casual when mentioning his failed love life.

He wasn’t sure that was a bad thing.

“I _am_ happy,” Obi-Wan insisted. At Bant’s pointed look at his hands, balled into fists at his sides, he sighed. “Happy enough.”

“You need to talk about it to someone Obi.” Bant sighed, shoulders dropping as she exhaled, possibly in exasperation, Obi-Wan didn’t know. “I know you can run rings around the therapists and councillors, but you need to really talk about what he did to you. You deserve to be happy Obi, not just trying to muddle through life, avoiding any chance of being romantically involved with anyone even remotely interested in you. The things he said. What he did. You can’t keep that bottled up.”

“Maybe I just don’t want a long-term relationship,” Obi-Wan countered, looking away from Bant and staring at the TV. There was a news report on mute, one Obi-Wan didn’t overly care for, but _anything_ was better than this conversation right now.

“And maybe you just don’t want to get hurt again?” Bant asked softly, smiling sadly when Obi-Wan glanced at her, eyes a strange mix of blue-grey that revealed to anyone who knew him how he felt about the conversation topic.

“Don’t psychoanalyse me.” he snapped, and Bant just blinked at him slowly. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” Garen said dryly, giving him a disbelieving look. “That’s why you’re so tense we could use you as a fucking guitar string.”

Obi-Wan glared at Garen, forcing his hands to relax, shoulders to drop slightly, and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’m _fine_. I _will_ be fine. It’s okay. Honestly.”

Neither of them looked like they believed him – of course they didn’t, he was lying through his teeth and they all knew it – but they didn’t say anything else, didn’t call him out. Obi-Wan didn’t know if he was annoyed or relieved that Bant and Garen dropped it after bringing it up in the first place.

“I’m going to study.” Obi-Wan decided, walking past Garen who was still sat on the ground, past Bant on her chair, and out into the hall. They watched him leave, silent, gazes heavy and knowing and he gritted his teeth. They’d talk about him the moment he was out of earshot, he knew that, but Obi-Wan didn’t care. He needed to get away and just be _alone_.

Before he lost his temper and gave Garen _another_ black eye.

Not after what he-

Not after what had happened.

Karma hated him, Obi-Wan knew that. He accepted it even. But still, it’d be nice if once, just once, he could have something good in his life without it being tainted by the biggest fuck up he’d ever made.

One he never told anyone about.

Bypassing his overloaded desk, Obi-Wan collapsed on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. “Fuck.”

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I hate everything.”

There was pale sunlight shining through his window, lighting up his room in wide swatches of golden yellow, bright, warm and cheery. A direct fucking contrast to how he felt.

“Why me?” He whispered. “What did I ever fucking do to deserve this shit?”

His only answer was the sound of birds in the tree outside the house, traffic in the street below his window, and the occasional passerby talking away on their phone on the way to wherever they were heading.

Obi-Wan sighed, arm beneath his head, his free hand resting on his chest, near his heart.

Underneath his fingers, beneath the thick cotton and flannel shirt, Obi-Wan knew there was a raised line of flesh, one of many: a memento from a time in his life he’d give anything to forget.

No. Not anything.

Some things he wouldn’t give up for the world, no matter the cost to himself. As he’d already proven six years ago.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

10th April, 2015:

The pub was well-lit, warm and mostly empty. It was perfect for Qui-Gon’s tastes and he greeted the barman with a nod.

His usual booth in the corner, far from the doors with a clear view of every conceivable entry and exit point, was empty and he slid into it. Some music, heavy on the drums but with clear female vocals, drifted out from the speakers mounted in the corners of the room and Qui-Gon tilted his head, listening.

_Thunder only happens when it's raining_

_Players only love you when they're playing_

_‘Good tune,’_ he thought with a slight smile. The barman, a delightful man in his late forties called Nick, brought over a pint of the pub special which he set down on the polished wooden table in front of Qui-Gon. “Thanks Nick.”

“No problem Jinn,” Nick gave him a half-nod, took the three-pound for the pint and left him to his thoughts.

 _The Maverick_ was shut for the rest of the week, a rare occurrence that served to upset a great many of the students remaining in the city during their Easter holidays, and Qui-Gon was taking advantage of the fact. He hadn’t expected the pipes of building the café was part of to burst, causing damage to the basement of the shop next door. Qui-Gon was thankful that the café hadn’t suffered anything more than no water and was only shut until the pipes were repaired, so he had a week to spend doing whatever he wanted.

And he was out _drinking_.

 _‘Ah the honour of being a walking joke,’_ Qui-Gon thought amused as he took a sip of his drink. The beer was cold, with a sweetly-bitter tang to it that Qui-Gon found he quite liked. He rarely indulged in drinking beer, choosing instead to mostly abstain from alcohol – and if he did drink, it was usually a small shot of Glenfiddich in the evening – but the one Nick served as the ‘house blend’ was damned nice.

He only planned to stick around for one pint, nothing more than that since he wanted to not wake up with a hangover in the morning. Instead he somehow found himself staring at his third pint in less than two hours.

 _‘Every time,’_ he sighed, swallowing a mouthful of his drink, gaze sweeping the room.

The door farthest from his booth opened, letting in a gust of cool air before it shut, and Qui-Gon instantly focused on the person entering the pub.

 _‘Well,’_ Qui-Gon thought, amused. _‘What a surprise.’_

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Obi-Wan made a beeline for the bar, the barman giving him an inscrutable look that had Obi-Wan pulling out his wallet.

“Yes I’m bloody old enough to drink,” Obi-Wan said waspishly, showing the man his ID, trying not to glare outright. “I’m seriously not in the mood for cracks about my looks right now.”

“Fair enough, what’ll you have?” The barman shrugged, satisfied with his ID and giving him an expectant look. His accent was local and Obi-Wan was thankful he hadn’t slipped up with his own accent unintentionally.

Fucking hell he hated that his unintentional mimicry usually got worse when he drank!

“Scotch, neat,” Obi-Wan replied, pulling out a five-pound note and handing it to the barman.

“Three-fifty,” the barman said, taking his money and depositing it in the register beside him, handing him his change before picking up a small tumbler.

Obi-Wan waited patiently for the glass to be filled with amber liquid. He took it when the barman held it out to him. “Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

Obi-Wan turned around and looked around the room, wondering where he could sit. There were some tables set out along the sides of the room, and half-glass partitions that separated parts of the room into smaller areas, but there was nowhere that was truly secluded.

He frowned. Shit.

Sighing Obi-Wan chose one of the tables nearest to the door he’d entered through, sitting in the chair that was against the wall, satisfied enough with the sight he had of most of the room. It wasn’t perfect but it’d do.

The scotch wasn’t the highest quality, but for three-pound-fifty Obi-Wan wasn’t going to complain. He could have gone to Tesco and bought a bottle for twenty-pound and sequestered himself in his room for the night, but he’d have risked Garen breaking down his damned door and dragging him away from his attempt at alcohol-induced unconsciousness. Thus, sub-par scotch from a pub in town was good enough for him.

The first sip burnt like a bastard, the second less so, and by the third Obi-Wan barely noticed.

Score one for the pub scotch.

Tilting his head back, Obi-Wan stared blankly at the ceiling, the whirls of the plaster design mildly hypnotising and he blinked. The club he’d left had been too loud, even if the drinks had been cheap – and in some cases free thanks to some admiring individuals – and Obi-Wan was thankful for the peaceful atmosphere the pub offered. The music playing wasn’t too loud, was softer than the dubstep, rock and hip hop anthems nearly every club seemed to belt out with enough bass to thump in his chest, and Obi-Wan tilted his head.

_If I leave here tomorrow_

_Would you still remember me?_

_For I must be traveling on now_

_'Cause there's too many places I've got to see_

The door near Obi-Wan opened, a cold blast of wind hitting him in the face and causing him to jolt forward. He watched as a tall, thin man walked into the pub, straight to the bar and ordered himself a pint of Carlsberg.

Obi-Wan watched him for a moment before dismissing him and returning his gaze to the ceiling, drinking from his glass as he did.

The scotch didn’t last very long, gone after a few mouthfuls and Obi-Wan sighed, standing and heading towards the bar, glass in hand. The man was still there, leaning against the bar as he watched the barman pull him a pint.

“Another please,” Obi-Wan said to the barman who nodded. Obi-Wan placed the glass down on the counter, resolutely ignoring the man who shamelessly stared at him.

“You look a little young to be out so late,” the man said, wry amusement audible and Obi-Wan clenched his jaw. “Fortunate genetics I think.”

“Yeah, it’ll be brilliant when I’m forty, but until then it’s damned annoying to constantly get ID’d,” Obi-Wan replied, unable to ignore it when someone spoke to him. Damn his fucking manners.

“Maybe even then,” the man suggested and Obi-Wan did a double-take as he realised-

Well shit.

Obi-Wan smiled politely, trying not to show his distaste because _goddamnit_ couldn’t he go anywhere without being hit on?

“Hello again.”

Obi-Wan turned, startled and found himself staring dumbly.

Shit.

Qui-Gon smiled, a beautiful expression that made Obi-Wan’s heart thud heavily.

 _Double_ shit.

“Hi.” he breathed, shocked to find himself smiling back, eyes bright with surprise and joy even as he mentally flailed. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I come here once a fortnight on my night’s off,” Qui-Gon explained, still smiling as he stared down at Obi-Wan. “I didn’t expect to see _you_ here.”

“Here kid,” the barman said, interrupting their staring and Obi-Wan blinked.

“Thanks,” he said, giving the barman the money for the refill.

“You bring me another Nick?” Qui-Gon asked the barman, Nick, who rolled his eyes and nodded. “Thanks.”

Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan, still smiling, and jerked his head. “Want some company?”

“Sure.” Obi-Wan glanced behind him, realising that the man, whoever he’d been, had left at some point. Disappearing to some part of the pub Obi-Wan couldn’t see from where he was standing. Oh well. “Lead the way.”

The booth Qui-Gon led him to was perfect to see the entire room, even with the half-glass partitions breaking up the large space, and Obi-Wan immediately slid into the booth, back against one of the outer walls, no windows behind him.

Qui-Gon gave him a strange look but didn’t say anything, something Obi-Wan was thankful for, and sat down opposite him.

Nick brought over Qui-Gon’s fourth pint, depositing it on the table and leaving them without a word. Obi-Wan looked at the pint curiously, and Qui-Gon gave him a smile.

“It’s a house blend,” Qui-Gon explained. “Nick has it specially made. Big hit with the local students on the weekends.”

“I imagine so if it’s cheaper than most beers,” Obi-Wan agreed, sipping his scotch as he watched Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow in silent agreement, picked up his pint and swallowed a mouthful. God but it was gloriously cold and refreshing.

Obi-Wan stared, fascinated by the pale skin of Qui-Gon’s exposed neck as he drank deeply from his pint. Fuck but that was hot.

Obi-Wan blinked, realised he’d been staring and cleared his throat awkwardly as Qui-Gon put his pint down. He opened his mouth to speak but paused, staring again.

“What?” Qui-Gon asked curiously, looking at Obi-Wan.

His hand was touching Qui-Gon’s jaw before he realised and Obi-Wan froze. Qui-Gon was staring at him, blue eyes dark like a storm brewing over the ocean. Blinking Obi-Wan hesitantly moved his hand, running his fingertips lightly along Qui-Gon’s jaw, heart beating wildly in his chest, blood pounding in his veins. His fingertips ghosted over Qui-Gon’s lips, pressingly softly and Obi-Wan drew in a sharp breath when Qui-Gon’s tongue darted out, skimming his fingertips as he ran his fingers over Qui-Gon’s lips.

“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon breathed, a deep rumble in his voice and Obi-Wan blinked again.

“Yes?” He whispered, fingers moving along Qui-Gon’s jaw, down towards his neck and-

“Obi-Wan stop.” Qui-Gon ordered quietly and Obi-Wan froze. What? What had he-

“This isn’t the sort of place for this Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon continued softly, hand coming up and gently wrapping around Obi-Wan’s fingers, drawing them away from his face slowly.

“What is the sort of place of this then?” Obi-Wan asked, blinking slowly. He felt… strange.

Had he eaten today? No. No, he didn’t think so. The last thing he _remembered_ eating was the lasagne Bant had made using a recipe she’d found on the internet. It had been quite nice, considering it had been made with Garen’s help and Garen was a damned _disaster_ in the kitchen.

“Not here,” Qui-Gon answered, standing slowly, hand still grasping Obi-Wan’s and pulling him up as well. “Come with me?”

Obi-Wan smiled widely, eyes bright and he blinked. “Of course.”

Qui-Gon guided him out of the booth, sliding his hand up to grip Obi-Wan’s forearm – far subtler than holding hands, Obi-Wan approved – and headed for the bar.

“I’m heading out Nick,” Qui-Gon said quietly to the barman, Nick was his name.

“G’night Jinn.” Nick nodded, giving Obi-Wan a look. What that look meant Obi-Wan couldn’t tell, didn’t really care, and he blinked again. “Night kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Obi-Wan replied automatically, scowling in annoyance. The barman smirked at him and didn’t reply. Ass.

Outside was cold and windy, the air biting and Obi-Wan shivered. Shit it was colder than it was in November, _what the hell_.

Qui-Gon released Obi-Wan’s arm and together they walked in silence. Obi-Wan wasn’t disappointed about that, he wasn’t, but the heat coming off Qui-Gon was lovely compared to the cold wind and he found himself pressing close to the taller man as they walked.

“Short cut,” Qui-Gon said as they turned down a narrow alley, there was a light in the middle of it, halfway down, and Obi-Wan stared at it as they walked.

Obi-Wan cried out in surprise as he tripped, tumbling forward, the ground rushing up to meet him and he was too slow, _too drunk_ , to do anything. He closed his eyes and-

An arm snaked around his waist, a hand grabbing his arm and he was pulled back flush against a warm chest.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you trip over things on purpose.” Qui-Gon murmured in his ear and Obi-Wan’s breath hitched.

“Maybe I’m falling for you.” Obi-Wan shot back feeling bold. He twitched when the arm around his waist tightened. “Must be your charming personality.”

Qui-Gon smiled, warm breath ghosting over Obi-Wan’s ear, a sharp contrast to the cold wind blowing down the alley.

Obi-Wan shivered.

“Must be,” Qui-Gon agreed, nuzzling the flesh behind Obi-Wan’s ear, pressing forward with his hips. Obi-Wan trembled in his arms and Qui-Gon’s tongue darted out, licking a strip of Obi-Wan’s neck, the cold air shocking Obi-Wan into opening his eyes.

When had they fallen shut?

Obi-Wan blinked and panted, head tilted back and resting on Qui-Gon’s shoulder, body trembling as Qui-Gon nibbled his neck.

“F-fuck,” Obi-Wan hissed when Qui-Gon bit down harder, licking the tender skin and soothing the sting of the bite. He arched forward, hand gripping the arm wrapped around his waist tight enough it had to hurt.

“Maybe later,” Qui-Gon promised, a deep rumbling growl that Obi-Wan felt in his chest. He sighed, eyes closing, limbs lax and _so damned willing_ -

“But right now it’s going to rain and I don’t have a coat,” Qui-Gon said, letting go of Obi-Wan suddenly and causing him to blink and stumble forward a step.

Wait, what?

Obi-Wan blinked dumbly as Qui-Gon smiled at him, hand out for Obi-Wan to take.

He gripped Qui-Gon’s hand as tightly as he could but he felt weak, fuzzy, and it was difficult to focus on keeping his grip strong. What-

Obi-Wan followed after Qui-Gon, a step behind, as the taller man guided him through the streets towards _The Maverick_. Obi-Wan recognised the streets at least, even if he was finding it difficult to balance.

“We’re shut for the week, damaged pipes in the building,” Qui-Gon explained as he let go of Obi-Wan’s hand and fished out his keys. The door in front of him had two locks, one by the handle and another further up. He unlocked both quickly, shoving the keys back into his pocket and took Obi-Wan’s hand again. “No early morning shifts.”

Obi-Wan blinked, smiling. The inside of the café was still brilliant, especially the main room, small and cosy. The seats looked so damned comfy.

Qui-Gon pulled him along, leading him to a door that Obi-Wan recalled being shut the last time he was at the café. There was a set of stairs behind it, leading up, and Obi-Wan tried his best not to trip as he ascended them after Qui-Gon.

“Have you-” Obi-Wan blinked, staring at Qui-Gon who glanced at him. “Have you been tested?”

Qui-Gon nodded. “Last year, haven’t been with anyone for nearly two. You?”

“Same.” Obi-Wan smiled, eyes bright with elation. “Passed with a flying rainbow or however the saying goes.”

Qui-Gon huffed out an amused breath, climbing the stairs quickly, Obi-Wan following after him, stumbling on the steps occasionally. At the top of the stairs was another door, this one open and Obi-Wan realised it was Qui-Gon’s flat.

He stumbled through the door, Qui-Gon turning on his heel and crowding him back against the door. Obi-Wan thumped against it heavily, body pliant and blinked, staring up at Qui-Gon’s face.

Leaning down Qui-Gon captured Obi-Wan’s lips in a kiss, pressing his body against the shorter man, making him squirm and gasp. Qui-Gon’s tongue slipped into Obi-Wan’s mouth making him groan, hands coming up to paw at Qui-Gon’s chest.

A hand traced along his side and Obi-Wan shuddered.

Another carded through his hair, fingers twisting around strands and angling his head. He whimpered.

Breaking the kiss Qui-Gon began kissing along Obi-Wan’s jaw, nibbling occasionally and making him moan, writhing against him.

The hand tracing Obi-Wan’s side slipped beneath his shirt, pulled out of his jeans – how did that happen? He doesn’t remember – leaving a trail of fire as it moved upwards, fingers pressing against a nipple and making him arch upwards.

A hard length pressed into his side, Obi-Wan moaned breathily, eyelids fluttering as he panted. “Fuckin’ _hell_.”

Qui-Gon grinned, nipping Obi-Wan’s neck sharply, drawing a gasp from him. “I’m quite partial to just fucking to be honest.”

Obi-Wan panted, hands grasping Qui-Gon’s shirt weakly, and he forced his eyes open, blinking.

“Tha’ was some scotch,” Obi-Wan slurred, blinking again, trying to focus on Qui-Gon’s face. “Potent shit.”

Qui-Gon frowned.

“Wha’ is it?” Obi-Wan asked, frowning himself.

“Nick’s scotch is watered down,” Qui-Gon said, eyes shining with something, concern maybe, and Obi-Wan blinked.

Watered down. Watered-

“Fucker,” Obi-Wan growled, scowling. Damned bastard swindled him out of a good drink! “Took my mon’y the shit.”

“You shouldn’t be like this unless you’re a light weight,” Qui-Gon continued, ignoring Obi-Wan’s cursing.

“I’m not,” Obi-Wan slurred, leaning forward, blinking, gaze focused on Qui-Gon’s lips. “Won contests drinkin’.”

Qui-Gon’s hand slipped out of his hair, the one under his shirt receding and Obi-Wan blinked, frowning. “Wha-”

“You need to sleep,” Qui-Gon said, taking Obi-Wan by the arms and pulling him away from the door, slinging one of Obi-Wan’s arms over his shoulder and sliding one of his own around Obi-Wan’s waist.

He pulled Obi-Wan along, the shorter man trying to focus on what the hell was going on. What-

Qui-Gon dropped him onto a large, king-sized bed face first.

Rude.

Obi-Wan rolled over sluggishly, blinking constantly as he tried to force himself to remain alert.

This was not good. What happened? How had this-

Qui-Gon was knelt down in front of him, pulling off his boots and Obi-Wan stared at him. Fuck.

He watched as Qui-Gon rose, staring down at him with an inscrutable expression and Obi-Wan swallowed, throat dry.

Qui-Gon leaned forward, just shy of draping himself across Obi-Wan, a hand reaching out and tracing the contours of Obi-Wan’s face.

“Go to sleep Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon whispered, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss against Obi-Wan’s lips.

Obi-Wan blinked slowly, staring at Qui-Gon as he stood over him, a blanket in his hands. The taller man tenderly covered him with it, tucking in the sides so he was warm and Obi-Wan smiled.

He hadn’t had someone do that for him since he’d been a kid and his mum-

Obi-Wan blinked, rolling onto his side and staring out the wide window facing the bed. It was still dark out. The artificial orange light of a street lamp shone through the window and Obi-Wan blinked.

Where was Qui-Gon? Where was-

Obi-Wan sighed, opening his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. There was a faint light coming from the window, competing with the street lamp’s orange light. It was getting earlier. Soon it’d be dawn. He’d be able to head home and-

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Obi-Wan sat up slowly, blinking tiredly.

Fuck he felt like crap. What the hell happened last night? Did he go out drinking with Garen? Had he ended up pulling an all-nighter and ended up shitfaced?

The blanket he was wrapped up in fell down and Obi-Wan glanced down at it automatically, blinking. He froze.

That was _not_ his blanket.

He slowly raised his head, gaze darting around as he took in the room he was in. Fuck.

This was _not_ his room.

Where _the_ _fuck_ was he?

The sound of footsteps approaching caught his attention and Obi-Wan’s head snapped up. He stared at the door on the other side of the open-plan flat, worry building in his stomach. Please let this be a dream or a nightmare. Please let what he thinks happened have happened. Oh fuck please-

The door opened and Obi-Wan’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

Qui-Gon smiled at him, caution clear to see in his gaze, a tray held in his hands in some sort of peace gesture. The scent of steeping tea captured Obi-Wan’s attention for a second and he had a brief moment where he realised, ‘ _he remembered my order_ ’ before he focused on Qui-Gon again.

“How’s your head?” Qui-Gon asked, walking across the room slowly, movements clearly telegraphed in a way that had Obi-Wan relaxing slightly.

“Pounding,” Obi-Wan answered carefully, watchful as Qui-Gon placed the tray on the small cabinet by the bed. There was a plate with three croissants on the tray, accompanied by two steaming mugs and a muffin. “What happened?”

Deciding to completely ignore the fact that he was sat on Qui-Gon’s bed, a veritable strange, Obi-Wan resorted to being as polite as possible and surreptitiously checking his pockets for his phone, keys and wallet.

All accounted for, thank fuck.

“What do you remember?” Qui-Gon asked staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face, but his eyes were full of concerned worry.

Obi-Wan swallowed.

“I remember telling Garen to take a flying leap of the Radio City Tower before heading into town and trying my best to get completely wasted in the clubs,” Obi-Wan answered, shoulders tense and he frowned. “I don’t- I remember a pub, but not much else.”

Qui-Gon frowned, troubled and Obi-Wan grimaced because, shit no.

“There was a man at the bar,” Qui-Gon said slowly. “Nick says he’s not a regular, never seen him before.” Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Nick’s the owner of the pub you were at. I go there once a week.”

“Oh.”

“He left after I spoke to you, didn’t stick around,” Qui-Gon continued, gaze distant as he thought. “Looked to be in his thirties, about your height, blue eyes, blondish hair?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, frowning in confusion. “I don’t recognise his description and, honestly? I don’t remember anything from last night except…”

Qui-Gon didn’t say anything, just stared at him and Obi-Wan blinked because-

“Did we- uh, well…” Obi-Wan trailed off, colouring in embarrassment.

“You passed out not long after we arrived here,” Qui-Gon said neutrally, eyes a flat grey and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

He had absolutely no desire to be fucked and then not remember it afterwards. The very idea made his skin crawl. Memories tried to force their way up but Obi-Wan suppressed them with practiced ease, six years of practice.

“No offense but I’m relieved,” Obi-Wan confessed, glancing up at Qui-Gon who tilted his head in response. Silent curiosity that Obi-Wan felt compelled to answer. “Bad experiences.”

Qui-Gon’s shoulders tensed imperceptibly and Obi-Wan looked away, reaching out for the cup of tea on the tray. “Experiences, plural?”

Obi-Wan froze, gripping the cup tightly, a slight tremor running through his arm and he swallowed.

“I don’t have a good track record with relationships,” Obi-Wan said quietly, not looking at Qui-Gon as he brought the cup to his lips and gingerly took a sip. The tea was excellent and very much appreciated. “My own fault really.”

He was careful though. One sip. No more than a mouthful.

He’d learnt his lesson the hard way and wasn’t going to trust a smiling face unless he was certain. Even if his instincts were telling him that Qui-Gon was safe, there was always a chance…

Obi-Wan refused to let himself be tricked again.

“That others have treated you in such a way that you feel responsible for what they’ve done is neither acceptable nor understandable.” Qui-Gon glared at him, a spark of anger in his eyes and Obi-Wan stared at him in surprise. “It is a reflection on them that they treated you the way they did, _not_ on you.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, found himself speechless and shut it. He hadn’t… no one had ever said that to him outside his friends. Not even his parents – though they knew little, his step-mother knew more than his father and was a confident when he needed one but Obi-Wan still didn’t tell her everything.

That someone who _didn’t even know him_ would say such a thing, and say with such conviction, such certainty and confidence-

Obi-Wan didn’t know what to say.

“Thank you,” he whispered, blinking back unexpected tears. “I- _thank you_.”

Qui-Gon stared at him, eyes dark and intense like storm clouds over the ocean in summer, and gave him a gentle smile. “You’re welcome Obi-Wan.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

“Why is the café shut?” Obi-Wan asked as he descended the stairs behind Qui-Gon, shamelessly staring at the man’s body. Fuck but he was good looking.

“I mentioned it before,” Qui-Gon replied and Obi-Wan cringed inside. Right, he wouldn’t remember that conversation. “There’s damaged pipes in the building. The café’s shut until they’re fixed.”

“When will they be fixed?” Obi-Wan stopped at the bottom of the stairs, watching Qui-Gon open the latch of the door.

“By next week,” Qui-Gon answered, glancing over his shoulder at Obi-Wan and smiling. Obi-Wan smiled back.

“And you’re going to stay in a building with no water for an entire week?” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

They walked into the front room of the café, past the counter. Qui-Gon chuckled.

“I’ve done it before, but no.” Qui-Gon shook his head. “I’m staying with a friend for the week. I hadn’t actually planned to come back here at all this week but…” He trailed off awkwardly.

“But you weren’t expecting to end up pulling someone?” Obi-Wan finished, unable to keep the amused smirk off his face. Qui-Gon smiled back.

“Something like that.” he nodded and opened the door to the café, holding it open and staring at Obi-Wan. “Are you going to come back when we’re open again, or will you keep avoiding me?”

“I wasn’t-” Obi-Wan cut himself off, ducking his head ruefully. “Was it that obvious?”

“Not really.” Qui-Gon shook his head, his smile turning into a smirk. “Your friend Garen mentioned that you were avoiding any ‘temptations’ while working during the break.”

 _‘I’m going to kill him,’_ Obi-Wan thought as he flushed, absolutely mortified.

“Garen is an asshole,” Obi-Wan muttered, scowling and Qui-Gon laughed quietly. “Ignore him, he’s a liar. Can’t help himself.”

“Oh I’m sure he can’t help himself, but the two with him confirmed his words.” Qui-Gon grinned outright when Obi-Wan cursed the existence of his friends.

“Fucking assholes,” he rolled his eyes. “They’re all liars.”

Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow, clearly not believing a word he said and Obi-Wan sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said softly. “It’s not- It has nothing to do with you personally. I just- It’s easier if I don’t… get involved with anyone. Safer.”

“Safer for who?” Qui-Gon asked just as softly and Obi-Wan looked up from where he’d fixed his gaze firmly to the ground.

Qui-Gon was leaning forward, face close and Obi-Wan drew in a sharp breath, eyes wide.

“Everyone.” Obi-Wan breathed, frozen to the spot as he stared into Qui-Gon’s eyes, mesmerised.

“Hmm.” Qui-Gon’s lips brushed against Obi-Wan’s, breath ghosting over his face. “I’m not everyone.”

“No, you’re not,” Obi-Wan said, feeling lightheaded and he closed the last bit of distance between them.

The kiss was short but passionate and made Obi-Wan’s knees weak. He whimpered into the kiss, hand coming up and gripping Qui-Gon’s shoulder. A hand cupped his jaw, tilting his head and the kiss deepened for a moment, tongues dancing with each other, before Qui-Gon drew back.

“Goodbye Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon breathed, gaze blazing, voice a low rasp and Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Definitely,” Obi-Wan promised, nodding slightly. “Definitely.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

Obi-Wan opened the front door carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible as he toed off his boats and shut the door behind him. There was a letter on the door mat and Obi-Wan picked it up, frowning.

It was too early for the daily post, and there was no stamp on the envelope meaning it had been delivered personally. There was no name on it, but Obi-Wan figured it was either for all of them, or one of them, and the only way to find out would be to open it.

He stopped by the kitchen on the way up to his room, grabbing a breakfast bar from the cupboard and a bottle of water from the fridge. Shutting his bedroom door, Obi-Wan tossed the letter down on his desk beside the breakfast bar and water bottle before shucking out of his clothes and throwing on a pair of faded pyjama bottoms and an old t-shirt.

Opening the bottle, he took a long drink from it, savouring the feel of cold water hitting his throat and quenching his thirst. Finding a taxi to take him back from town at 6:30 in the morning had not be easier, something that had honestly amazed him, and he’d been more tired than he realised.

The breakfast bar went untouched, saved for when he woke from the nap he was about to take. Obi-Wan picked up the letter again, sitting down on the edge of his bed as he flipped it over.

 _‘I wonder if it’s from one of the neighbours,’_ he wondered as he slipped a finger under the fold of the envelope and tore it open _. ‘Maybe from 54, they’re constantly complaining about students being too fucking-’_

His heart stuttered in his chest, breath catching in his throat, hands shaking as he stared at the letter.

_I’ll see you soon Kenobi._

It wasn’t signed, but the neatly penned cursive was as recognisable to Obi-Wan as his own scrawl was. More so.

The flourish on the ‘K’ of his name had him sweating, panic welling up as he breathed sharply.  _‘No. No no no. Oh God no.’_

“He’s back,” Obi-Wan whispered, terrified. “Oh God he’s _back_.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Obi-Wan paced.

The room felt too small.

The door was shut. Locked.

So was the window.

He gripped his hair in his hands, fisting the strands tight enough to hurt.

Stopping suddenly, Obi-Wan stared blankly at the wall.

“Fuck,” he whispered, eyes wide, pale and shaking. “Fucking fuckity _fuck_!”

He clenched his jaw shut.

Blinked away tears trying to form.

What was he going to do?

What could he do?

He couldn’t be back. He couldn’t.

It wasn’t possible.

He’d have known. He would have-

No. No he wouldn’t have known.

Fuck.

He sat down heavily on his bed, slumping forward, elbows pressing into his thighs as he breathed.

“What am I going to do?” He cried quietly, a panicked sort of despair clawing its way out of his throat, fear making his heart thud in his chest. “What _the fuck_ am I going to do?”

He breathed out slowly, forcing himself to calm down. “It’s a prank,” he said forcefully. “Just a sick, twisted, extremely well-research prank.”

“It can’t be him.” Obi-Wan swallowed. “ _It_ _can’t_ _be_.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

13th April, 2015:

“Obi-Wan are you okay?” Bant asked, making Obi-Wan jump. “You’ve been jumping at shadows for days, what happened?”

“Nothing,” Obi-Wan said too quickly. “I haven’t been sleeping well, not since- well, you know what the date was.”

Bant grimaced. “Yeah.” She stared at him closely. “I have some sleeping tablets if you’d like? They’re ASDA brand so not very good, but they work well enough.”

Obi-Wan repressed the urge to shiver. The idea of being drugged into unconsciousness… no. _Hell no._

He shook his head. “I’ll be fine in a few days. Always am after all.” He smiled, pulling Bant into a hug when she didn’t look convinced.

“If you’re sure,” Bant said, voice muffled by Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“I’m sure.” He smiled slightly, forcing himself to not tense up, to not panic, as he held his friend in full view of the kitchen window.

 _‘There’s no-one there, you’re fine. You’re safe,’_ he chanted to himself, slowly letting go of Bant when she squirmed slightly. _‘There’s no-one there.’_

“Okay, but if you end up not sleeping I will have Garen knock you out.” Bant warned, giving him a hard look and Obi-Wan smiled in spite of himself.

God but he loved her.

“Fair enough.” Obi-Wan smiled, amused and watched as Bant left the kitchen, apple in hand until she disappeared from view.

The moment she was out of sight his smile fell away, a tense, worried look taking over his features and he ran a hand over his face, sighing.

“Fuck.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

17th April, 2015:

“Hey so _The Maverick_ is open again,” Garen said suddenly, staring at the TV as he watched Obi-Wan get annihilated by Bant in Star Wars Battlefront. He’d tried to put the letter out of his mind, alert whenever he was outside the house for anyone hanging around. So far he hadn’t seen anyone, or felt eyes on him. After a few days he’d calmed down, writing it all off as a prank, but he remained alert for anything unusual.

And thus he found himself playing Battlefront with a damned _beast_.

How Bant managed to always beat Obi-Wan when he played as Vader he didn’t know, but he was fucking cursing her existence by the time the Hero Battle was over.

“How _the_ _fuck_ do you manage that?” Obi-Wan exclaimed, staring at Bant in amazement. She shrugged. “You’re playing as _Leia_. You have a _blaster_. Vader has a fucking lightsaber Goddamnit!”

“I’m just that good.” Bant grinned, laughing when Obi-Wan gave her the finger. “Charming.”

“I hate you and your gaming prowess,” Obi-Wan muttered darkly.

“Are either of you guys even _listening_ to me?” Garen asked.

“Nope,” Bant said just as Obi-Wan shook his head and added. “To be fair we rarely listen to you anyway.”

“Rude.” Garen rolled his eyes. “Anyway. I said that _The Maverick’s_ open again. Has been since last night apparently. Vos noticed when he was heading back from that club he works at.”

“You mean the not-really-a-strip-club-but-totally-a-strip-club where Vos is its version of a Go-Go dancer with a six pack?” Obi-Wan asked dryly, smirking when Bant cackled.

“Yep.” Garen grinned. “Lovely place.”

“Shitty music though.” Obi-Wan pointed out. “I always feel like my hearts going to burst out of my chest in time with the fucking bass.”

“That would be pretty epic to see though.” Bant giggled, smiling widely. “There’s probably some crappy sci-fi movie where that happens.”

“Probably,” Obi-Wan agreed and Garen sighed in exasperation.

“Oi!” They both turned to stare at him. “So. _Maverick_. Tonight. Yes? Good.”

“You get downright grumpy when Reeft heads home you know that?” Obi-Wan remarked dryly, earning a sharp glare that he ignored.

“Fuck you and fuck your-” Garen cut himself off frowning. “Shit no. I like your mum. Damn.”

“Sucks to be you,” Obi-Wan quipped, grinning mercilessly as he stood up and stretched. “Literally.”

“You and your puns can go fuck off right now you ass.” Garen groaned, slumping back against the sofa. “You’re a damned nightmare with them.”

“But you make it so easy,” Obi-Wan said innocently, waggling his eyebrows and making Bant laugh. “In several respects.”

“Oh fuck you!” Garen moaned, grabbing a cushion and stuffing his face into it.

“If you ask nicely I’ll consider it,” Obi-Wan replied, grinning so much it hurt as Bant rolled onto her back and cackled.

Garen’s curses were muffled by the cushion but Obi-Wan still heard him. “I hate you, you fucking cockring!”

“Garen, if you’re having difficulty finishing and thinking about me at the same time, I’ve got a bit of bad news for you,” Obi-Wan said, mock-soothingly and Bant howled. “Reeft might be unhappy with your fixation on me.”

Garen lifted his head from the cushion and _glared_.

“I honestly hate you right now.”

Obi-Wan grinned. “I know.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

The café was crowded, more so than usual, and they were hard-pressed to find seats on the ground floor. Garen argued that the third floor was closer to where the food was, and usually less packed, but Obi-Wan was adamant. Ground floor.

Bant had sided with Obi-Wan, giving him a look when Garen wasn’t paying attention that had him frowning and shaking his head. Not here. Not now. She frowned but didn’t say anything and Obi-Wan was inordinately grateful.

He wanted to have a nice night out. Not have to field twenty-questions.

“What’ll you have?” A thick-set and muscled man asked them.

“Evening special,” Garen answered promptly. “For all of us Wolffe.”

Wolffe nodded, jotting down their orders in a small notebook, giving them a smile that was all teeth. It made Obi-Wan grin back automatically, the sharp look of warped humour amusing him.

“Did your parents name you Wolffe before or after they say your smile?” Obi-Wan asked, enjoying the way the man grinned again.

“Neither. Wolffe’s a nickname given to me by my squad,” Wolffe answered, and Obi-Wan was instantly interested.

“You’re military,” he stated, giving Wolffe an appraising look.

“Ex. Retired ten years ago.” Wolffe corrected, still grinning. “Jinn’s an old friend so he gave me a job when this place was still a shit hole with no fucking customers.”

“I imagine it was one hell of a readjustment period,” Obi-Wan said and Wolffe’s eyes narrowed, grin dimming somewhat.

“Yeah.” he shrugged. “Took a while but at least I don’t freak and punch someone for shouting behind him suddenly.”

“Yeah, that’s always nice not to do.” Obi-Wan nodded, empathising with the older man. It was beyond problematic to be on such a hair-trigger for any period of time, let alone months or years, most especially around students: noisy bastards.

“I’ll have your food brought over in a bit,” Wolffe said abruptly, giving them a nod. “Garen, Jinn said something about reminding you that spreading rumours about him being a Jedi weren’t appreciated and will end with your ass meeting the pavement outside.”

Garen grinned and gave Wolffe a mock-salute. “Aye aye captain!”

“That’s Navy you uneducated little shit.” Wolffe rolled his eyes, walking away from the table. “Read a fucking book!”

Garen chortled and Obi-Wan raised an amusement eyebrow. “Jedi?”

“Dude’s got swords Obi-Wan,” Garen said. “ _Swords_. And some of them don’t look like they’re purely for display either.”

“So why didn’t you go with Ninja then?” Obi-Wan asked, curious and amused by his friend.

Garen snorted. “There’s a Jedi in the online RPG Reeft plays and I swear to God, it’s fucking Jinn. Down to that unamused glare he does!”

Obi-Wan shook his head, smiling. “If you say so.”

“I do!” Garen leaned forward. “And he has this thing where he just _appears_ outta nowhere. Like, you blink and he’s there. It’s downright fucking creepy and so damned Jedi. Dude’s a Jedi Master.”

Obi-Wan bit his lip, trying not to laugh. Bant’s shoulders were shaking with the effort it took for her not to laugh aloud.

Garen frowned before his eyebrows rose. “He’s right behind me isn’t he?”

“Yep,” Obi-Wan grinned.

“He’s glaring at me in that evil-amused way isn’t he?” Garen continued.

“Yep,” Bant laughed.

“I’m gonna die aren’t I?” Garen sighed.

“Too much effort,” Qui-Gon said, amused. “Disposing of bodies is hard work.”

“I’m not worth hard work?” Garen sniffed and Obi-Wan grinned sharply.

“It doesn’t take much work to handle you Garen.” Obi-Wan laughed when Garen glared at him.

“Fuck you,” Garen muttered and Obi-Wan opened his mouth. “Shut up.”

“Silent fucks given hmm,” Obi-Wan said, mock-contemplatively. “I had wondered how you and Reeft managed to avoid complaints from the neighbours.”

Bant giggled, waving her hands in front of her as she tried to breathe.

“I hate you so much why am I friends with you?” Garen scowled and Obi-Wan smirked. “No. Not another word. No more puns.”

“Spoilsport.” Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon who was smiling, eyes bright with amusement. “So, what is the evening special anyway?”

Qui-Gon grinned. “Stew.”

The large tray in Qui-Gon’s hands was deposited on the table, revealing three bowls of stew, a plate of bread rolls, a dish of butter, cutlery and three steaming cups.

“You didn’t tell Wolffe what drinks you wanted so I went with your usual orders,” Qui-Gon explained, passing them each a bowl. The plate of bread rolls was placed in the middle of the table, the butter dish beside it.

Obi-Wan accepted the cutlery Qui-Gon offered him and plucked the cup of tea from the tray before Qui-Gon could pick it up. He smiled and took a sip.

“You added sugar?” Obi-Wan glanced up at Qui-Gon curiously who nodded.

“You didn’t seem to like the one I brought to you last week,” Qui-Gon explained and Obi-Wan flushed.

Garen and Bant both stared at him.

“I never like tea after drinking, can’t really taste it so it’s just hot water to me,” Obi-Wan said, trying to avoid the dumbfounded looks on his friend’s faces.

“Ah,” Qui-Gon nodded. “I imagine not.”

“Dude.” Garen breathed out and Obi-Wan looked at him. “Did you Qui-Gon Sin?”

“What?” Obi-Wan blinked, face burning.

Bant grinned, not looking at Obi-Wan. Her gaze was focused on Qui-Gon who was staring at Obi-Wan. “Oh you did.”

“Shut up!” Obi-Wan hissed, glaring at her.

Garen cackled. “Oh hell no! Consider this revenge Obi-Wan!”

“Garen seriously, drop it.” Obi-Wan warned, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

People were staring.

He looked around them. No. People weren’t. But _someone_ was.

“Oh so you’re allowed to tease _me_ about my sex life, but I’m not allowed to tease you for _yours?_ ” Garen asked dryly and Obi-Wan felt like screaming.

“Not right now no.” Obi-Wan ground out, clenching his hand in his lap into a fist, nails digging into his palm. “ _Garen_.”

Something in his voice, or his face caught Garen’s attention and the other man seemed to realise that Obi-Wan really wasn’t in the mood.

“ _Fine_.” Garen sighed, rolling his eyes. Obi-Wan let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding in and felt his shoulders relaxed.

Someone was still watching though. His instincts were screaming at him.

Bant was staring at him, a concerned glint in her eyes warring with the sharpness of her gaze. She picked up on things Garen missed, in part thanks to her chosen degree and profession. Right now, Obi-Wan would be thankful if she realised just how worried he was and keep Garen from trying to bring up the topic again.

“Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon who was staring at him, eyes full of emotion and Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat. Shit. He hadn’t-

“I understand,” Qui-Gon said, giving him a slow nod. “I’ll speak to you later.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Later.”

‘ _Much later_ ,’ he thought, the sensation of being watched not abating. ‘ _I can’t risk it yet_.’

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

20th April, 2015:

Obi-Wan woke up. Something wasn’t right.

It was late Thursday morning and he’d had a lie-in for the first time in what felt like forever.  Bant and Garen were out, each at their respective places of work, so Obi-Wan had the house to himself.

Usually he loved that fact. Would take great pleasure in hogging the front room to study or game or binge-watch TV on Netflix.

Not anymore.

Climbing out of bed, Obi-Wan pulled on a pair of flat trainers – his own set of slippers because screw it, they were comfortable _and_ practical – and left his room, robe from the back of his door in his hands. He descended the stairs, pulling it on as he did, and paused at the bottom of the stairs.

The front door was locked, security chain done up. He glanced down at the matt in front of the door. No letters.

Obi-Wan opened the door to the front room, frowning at the fact that neither Bant or Garen had remembered to open the curtains. He sighed, honestly it wasn’t that hard to open the damned things.

Closing the door behind him, Obi-Wan moved towards the window at the front of the room, intending to get some natural light in the room.

A quiet thump behind him had him turning in a split second, hand already raised and he let out a cry of surprise as he blocked a fist flying towards his face.

Obi-Wan kicked out, heel slamming into the knee of the man attacking him with enough force that it bent backwards.

A squeal of pain escaped the man, faced masked, dressed in black, and Obi-Wan lashed out again, fist slamming into the man’s solar plexus and driving the air from his lungs.

The man dropped to the ground, unable to breath or scream and Obi-Wan ran for the front door.

A fist slammed into gut, doubling him over at the threshold to the hall and Obi-Wan gasped, stumbling forward. An arm wrapped itself around his throat, Obi-Wan grabbed the man’s thumb and _twisted_ , kicking out with his foot at the same time.

Whoever was holding him shrieked and Obi-Wan slammed his head back, blinking back black spots from the pain that exploded in his head. Throwing himself forward, he half turned, half collapsed against the front door.

He kicked out at other man, his foot connecting solidly with the side of the man’s knee and causing it to crumple.

Frantically scrambling to undo the chain, Obi-Wan opened the catch and wrenched the front door open, throwing himself through the door and out into the bright sun.

He didn’t look behind him as he ran, heading straight for the house over the road where Vos lived. He slammed into the door, pounding on it with his fists.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” A voice called through the door and Obi-Wan panted as he heard the locks on the door being undone. “Fucking _hell_.”

Vos stared at Obi-Wan, wide-eyed. “What the hell Kenobi?”

“Police! Now!” Obi-Wan panted, wild-eyed as he pushed past Vos and grabbed the handset on the table by the door, hands shaking so much he could barely press the right buttons.

_“Nine-One-One what is your emergency?”_

“S-someone broke into my h-house and attacked m-me,” Obi-Wan stuttered, turning and staring at Vos, the door behind them shut and locked.

Vos at least had some self-preservation instincts.

_“What is the address and are you safe sir?”_

Obi-Wan told the emergency responder the address, trembling violently as he spoke. Vos left the hallway and returned with a cup of tea. He pressed it into Obi-Wan’s hand when he hung up the phone, taking the handset from Obi-Wan and placing it back on the table.

“Come on.” Vos steered him into the front room of the shared house he lived in with his friends. “Sit down Kenobi before you fall down.”

“What the hell happened Kenobi?” Vos asked eventually, dark eyes fixed on Obi-Wan, gaze intent.

Obi-Wan laughed without a trace of humour as he stared down at the cup in his hands. His trembling had ceased, the tea almost gone, but he held the cup in a death grip.

“I woke up, went downstairs and got attacked by two people in balaclavas,” Obi-Wan said. “Think I broke one their kneecaps getting the fuck away from them. Ran across the street straight for your door. The end.”

Vos leaned back in his chair. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” Obi-Wan grimaced.

“Did you lot piss anyone off or something?” Vos asked, raising an eyebrow. “Join a gang without realising it?”

Obi-Wan shivered. “Not recently.”

Vos narrowed his eyes. “This wasn’t a normal break-in was it?”

Obi-Wan looked up, eyes a flat grey. “No,” he said hoarsely. “No it wasn’t.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

“You can’t stay in the house Kenobi,” Vos said, arms crossed as he glared at the shorter man. “I know you’re crazy, and usually I’m fine with that fact, but you heard the police: ‘recommend you stay elsewhere’ because, oh yeah, someone broke into your house and attacked you!”

Obi-Wan sighed, leaning against the hall wall, and raised an eyebrow. “And I left one of them unable to get away by the time the police showed up and the other having to hop away.”

“That’s not the point!” Vos spat, raising an arm in annoyance. The tattoos on his forearms caught Obi-Wan’s attention for a second, the speed Vos was waving his arms about now causing the illusion that the jaguar on his right arm was roaring at Obi-Wan. “Garen and Bant are heading home tonight, but you’re still here! You can’t stay in that house on your damned own when there’s someone out there who obviously has a beef with you!”

“Well I can’t stay here.” Obi-Wan countered calmly, raising a hand to stall Vos when the other man opened his mouth to shout some more. “No Vos, seriously. Your landlord is a twat and doesn’t care about circumstances. I can stay with someone else, but right now I need you to actually let me _out_ so I can pack some stuff.”

Vos stared at him. Obi-Wan stared back.

Letting out a defeated huff, Vos nodded and turned to open the front door. “You better not be lying to me Kenobi.”

“Not about this Quinlan,” Obi-Wan said quietly, using Vos’ rarely used first name and causing Vos to look at him. “I don’t actually want to tempt fate that much.”

Vos snorted. “Could have fooled me with that temper of yours.”

The front door to Obi-Wan’s house was closed and locked – the police had given him back the key they’d used to enter the property before – and he shivered as he stepped into the hall.

 _‘There’s no one here,’_ he thought, steeling his nerves and walking purposefully past the door to the front room and up the stairs. Vos followed behind him, a silent, equally deadly shadow.

Though Obi-Wan preferred Jujitsu and Akido, Vos straight-up preferred kickboxing. It made for some interesting open spars between the two whenever they’d be at the gym together. He swore someone had filmed them the last time and used it as promotional content.

His room was as he’d left it, his attackers not bothering with the upstairs – and that made him worried on a level he hadn’t been before. Grabbing his sports bag, Obi-Wan quickly shoved some clothing into it, stopping in the bathroom connected to his room long enough to grab his toothbrush, toothpaste and basic toiletries before he turned to Vos.

Vos was casually flipping through one of his text books, processing what he read as he waited for Obi-Wan. There was one hell of a mind hidden beneath Vos’ devil-may-care attitude and Obi-Wan honestly found it appealing.

But Vos was in a happy, stable, committed relationship and Obi-Wan refused to become a home wrecker.

Not on top of everything else he was.

“Do you actually understand half of what you’re reading?” Obi-Wan asked, shaking off his dark thoughts.

“Nope.” Vos grinned, dropping the book back on Obi-Wan’s desk. “You got everything?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. He sighed. “Honestly, my step-mother isn’t this over bearing.”

“Your step-mum is an angel.” Vos pointed out as they left Obi-Wan’s room and retreated back down the stairs. “Like if I thought she’d go for it I’d ask her to adopt me.”

“She probably would to be honest.” Obi-Wan laughed as they reached the front door. He didn’t look at the front room, didn’t want to think about it, but he hesitated.

“Where are you going to stay anyway?” Vos asked suddenly, catching Obi-Wan’s attention and he blinked.

Obi-Wan opened the front door, stepping out into the early afternoon sun and took a deep breath. “I know a guy.”

“A guy huh?” Vos raised an eyebrow, his tone suggestive. “How well do you know him hmm?”

“Enough that I know what colour his toothbrush is.” Obi-Wan shot back and Vos laughed.

“Sly Kenobi, sly.” Vos stood on his doorstep and the mirth in his eyes died as he stared at Obi-Wan. “Listen, are you sure you don’t want to stay here? At least for a night?”

Obi-Wan smiled and pulled Vos into a brief hug, squeezing tightly and trying not to cry at the sudden burst of emotions that hit him. “I’m sure. If it doesn’t work out I’ll be back okay?”

Vos nodded. “Okay.” He clenched his jaw and blew out a breath through his nose. “Be careful Obi-Wan.”

“I will.” Obi-Wan smiled, slung the sports bag over his shoulder, and started walking away from Vos’ front door. “I’m not the one who slips on the dance floor after all!”

“That was _one_ _time_ you bastard!” Vos shouted after him and Obi-Wan huffed out a laugh.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Qui-Gon smiled at the student who was regaling him with the story of their latest failure in physics class – something to do with convincing their lecturer with a PhD to put a magnet on a TV screen to see what happened; really even _Qui-Gon_ knew what happened if you did _that_ – when the door to the café opened and he instinctively glanced up.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse me,” Qui-Gon said, cutting the student off gently, and the girl looked up at him. “Another customer.”

“Oh, right!” She smiled, eyelashes fluttering as she blinked in what would probably be considered an attractive manner to most. Qui-Gon thought it made her seem like she had something in her eye and couldn’t quite get it out. “Thank you for listening mister Jinn!”

He smiled at her, recognising the moment when she turned into a metaphorical puddle of goop, before he excused himself and made his way over to the counter.

“You seem upset.” Obi-Wan jumped at his voice and Qui-Gon repressed the urge to frown.

“I- well,” Obi-Wan smiled tightly. “I was wondering if I could ask a favour of you?”

“Of course.” Qui-Gon nodded, reaching out and guiding Obi-Wan towards the back of the café, near the door to his flat. Obi-Wan felt tense, Qui-Gon stared at him. “What’s wrong?”

Obi-Wan let out a quiet, just-shy-of-hysterical laugh and stared at Qui-Gon with a haunted look. “What _isn’t_ wrong today? I was attacked in my own home. Bant and Garen are heading home after work today to their families so I’ll be on my own. The only other friend I have in town can’t really afford to let me stay with him because his landlord’s a bastard and I can’t stay in that damned house because the idea of sleeping there alone fucking terrifies me!”

The café was only half-as-busy as it usually was, the main room sparsely populated, but none of that mattered to Qui-Gon. In that moment he had a young man nearly at his breaking point stood in front of him, shaking and breathing like he’d been on the run with a slowly blossoming bruise across his throat.

So he hugged him.

Obi-Wan froze. Qui-Gon pulled him close, arms wrapped around the smaller man, a hand on the back on his head, and he murmured in Obi-Wan’s ear. “Breathe.”

Obi-Wan took a ragged breath. Then another. Slowly his hands came to settle on Qui-Gon’s back, gripping the green fabric tightly as he clung to the taller man.

“I don’t- I don’t even know _why_ I’m telling you this,” Obi-Wan whispered, head pressed against Qui-Gon’s chest, voice muffled. “I only came here to ask for a good hotel in the city.”

Qui-Gon smiled softly, glancing up and noticing Wolffe watching him from the counter. The other man gave Qui-Gon a nod, jerking his head in the direction of the door to Qui-Gon’s flat, and Qui-Gon gave him a slight nod in response.

“Come on,” Qui-Gon murmured, slowly releasing Obi-Wan from the hug and pulling him towards the door with a light grip on his arm.

Obi-Wan followed after him, sports bag strapped across his back. When Qui-Gon opened the door to the stairs up to his flat, Obi-Wan looked at him. “I can’t-” he started but Qui-Gon shook his head.

“You need to rest somewhere you know can’t be easily accessed,” Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan blinked. “No one can get into my flat unless they come through the café. And they’d have to get past two locked doors _after_ getting through Wolffe and myself.”

Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon, eyes wide. “Why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.”

“And that means I shouldn’t offer you kindness when you need it? Because you’re a stranger to me?” Qui-Gon asked, quirking a brow at Obi-Wan. “Or do you mean: I don’t know you beyond knowing a one-night stand?”

Obi-Wan flushed, looking down and away from Qui-Gon as he opened the door to his flat.

Qui-Gon sighed and reached out to take Obi-Wan’s hand. “I may not know you like your friends do, or your family. But I do know you’re a kind, considerate, man who has had something traumatising happen to him and feels both afraid and desperate for someone to care. Right now, that’s more than enough.”

Obi-Wan looked up at him, eyes shining. “You’re too good to be real,” he whispered, voice broken and full of pain.

“No, I’m just good enough to exist.” Qui-Gon refuted, smiling softly. “I’ve been through hard times in the past Obi-Wan and I would have greatly appreciated someone offering me a simple act of kindness.”

“So you do for others what no one did for you?” Obi-Wan asked and Qui-Gon nodded.

“When I can.” Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan a pat on the shoulder. “Get some sleep Obi-Wan. You won’t be disturbed, I swear.”

Obi-Wan nodded, dumbfounded at Qui-Gon’s generosity and watched as the taller man walked back to the door. Just before Qui-Gon shut it, Obi-Wan called out.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, smiling beautifully at Qui-Gon, eyes bright with emotion and unshed tears.

Qui-Gon gave him a solemn nod, a kind smile on his face, and shut the door, the sound of the lock turning settling something in Obi-Wan that had been hissing like a panicked animal in a corner for the last few hours.

The bed was still the same, sheets different shades of green-blue, and Obi-Wan toed off his shoes, pulled the belt out of his trousers and pulled off his jacket, before slipping beneath the covers.

Curling up, Obi-Wan took a breath, then another and pulled out his phone from his back pocket. There were three dozen texts and missed calls from Garen, Bant, Tachi, and Vos, all in the vein of ‘please tell me you’re safe/not dead/not arrested/not injured’ and Obi-Wan smiled warmly. He replied to them in a group chat on WhatsApp, making sure his notifications were silent.

OK [14:22]: _I’m okay. Spending a few hours at the Mav, don’t bother waiting around G/B. I’ll talk to you all later, going to try and ignore reality for a few hours._

Bant and Garen were the first to reply, followed quickly by Vos and Tachi.

BE [14:24]: _O are you sure you’re okay? The police called and said it was a break in gone wrong or sth. Was it really?_

GM [14:24]: _I hope you beat the crap out of them and not the other way around._

ST [14:25]: _How are you always at the centre of disasters Kenobi? What’s your secret? And your ass better be fine!_

QV [14:25]: _That’s your plan. Sleep at the all-nighter café!! I’m honestly offended rn_

Obi-Wan snorted a laugh and shot back a reply.

OK [14:26]: _Easy access to caffeine V._

OK [14:26]: _I’m fine B. Guys caught me in front room. They got broken kneecaps from it, I got a bruise. Think I won that right G?_

OK [14:27]: _Screw you S, jealously is unbefitting someone of your shortness._

GM [14:28]: _Having fun with Jinn then O? Bet he’s all protective of you, being so short an all lmao_

OK [14:28]: _I hate you._

ST [14:28]: _Wait you have it for Jinn Kenobi? JFC way to leave a girl hanging_

QV [14:28]: _Now I AM jealous_

 OK [14:29]: _I’m ignoring you all and going to SLEEP. Also Garen. Fuck yourself with a cactus please._

GM [14:30]: _I would but my prickly friend is sleeping in someone else’s bed rn_

BE [14:31]: _I’m judging you_

Obi-Wan laughed softly, muting his phone and placing it on the cabinet beside the bed. He burrowed deep into the blanket, head nearly covered and closed his eyes. He could be awake in a heartbeat if anyone entered the room, and he was far from helpless, but Obi-Wan found himself relaxing into sleep clinging to the promise Qui-Gon had made.

He believed him.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

In the early evening the city looked alive. Street lights flaring, their deep orange glow blazing down on the streets below. Car headlights, piercing halogen white, cutting beams as their drivers travelled home. Shop fronts closing, shutters coming down to protect goods, and clubs opening their doors, neon lights flickering to life and bathing narrow streets with luminescent greens and pinks.

It was a glorious, vivacious place of entertainment, of experience. But in the basement rooms it was meaningless to those within it.

Six men, each dressed in black suits, stood along the edges of a large room. A seventh sat, poised and confident, in a black leather-backed chair behind a desk that looked to be made of oak. His fingers were steepled together beneath his chin as he sat back in his chair, eyes cold and sharp.

“You failed me.” His voice was a quiet rasp, cultured English accent, aged in a way that reflected his physical appearance. There was a faint sense of foreboding to the words although the tone was genial.

In the middle of the room another man knelt, head down, eyes fixed firmly to the tiled ground beneath him. He spoke, not looking away from the ground. “Yes sir.”

“I asked one thing of you and you failed to do as I wished.” The older man tilted his head. “Tell me why I should not do to you what I have done to others who have failed me?”

The kneeling man looked up, eyes deep brown, a well of anger and determination. He raised his head, straightened his shoulders and faced the elder man with an unflinching gaze. “I won’t fail a second time sir.”

The older man smiled suddenly. It was not a nice smile. “No my dear Maul, you will not.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep and sat up. It took him a moment to recognise where he was but when he did he blushed.

 _‘Oh shit I actually slept. In his bed. Again!’_ He flopped back on the bed, throwing an arm over his face and groaning. _‘At least I remember this time.’_

The sound of footsteps caught Obi-Wan’s attention after a while of lying in the bed, determinedly thinking of nothing, and he dropped his arm from his face to stare at the door. The door opened slowly, carefully and Obi-Wan tensed automatically before relaxing when he saw Qui-Gon poke his head through the door and look at him.

“You’re awake,” Qui-Gon said smiling as he closed the door behind him. “I’m surprised; it’s only been six hours.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Six hours?” He asked amazed, sitting up and staring at Qui-Gon. “I don’t sleep that long usually.”

“How long do you tend to sleep?” Qui-Gon asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at Obi-Wan who resisted the urge to fidget.

 _‘I may be in his bed again, but at least I’m not drunk this time,’_ Obi-Wan reminded himself. _‘Or drugged.’_ He added darkly.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Four, five hours’ tops.” Qui-Gon stared at him. “I’m an insomniac.”

“Obviously,” Qui-Gon said dryly. “It’s nearly eight now, if you need a recommendation for a place to stay I have several. Though only one is guaranteed to offer you on site security.”

Obi-Wan blinked and tilted his head. “Oh?” Qui-Gon nodded, smiling slightly. “Well then, tell me all about them please?”

“There’s three hotels I know relatively well in the city, other than the TravelLodge where you can probably stay for a few nights before the price becomes ridiculous,” Qui-Gon began calmly and he pulled out a folded piece of paper from his jeans pocket. “But none of them are really secure in a decent way. The night porter’s aren’t trained for fights and usually call the police.”

“As you’d expect.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, taking the paper from Qui-Gon’s outstretched hand.

“Of course.” Qui-Gon nodded. “But the point still remains. If you’re attacked again the police may not be able to react in time and you could be injured more severely than you already have been.” Qui-Gon’s eyes dropped from Obi-Wan’s face to the bruise across his throat. It was beginning to turn a deep, ugly purple that stood out starkly on Obi-Wan’s pale skin.

Part of Qui-Gon was enraged at the sight of it, part of him wished to wipe it from existence, hide it, obscure it from the world with something else. Something that spoke of a better experience. He ignored his own desires, focusing on Obi-Wan, who stared at him for a long moment.

Looking down at the paper in his hand, Obi-Wan frowned. “And what about the security guarantee of this other place?” He asked finally, looking back up and staring at Qui-Gon with sharp, wary eyes.

“Absolute,” Qui-Gon answered simply. “No one will get near you without going through the security first.”

“I imagine that would be unnecessarily difficult,” Obi-Wan said dryly, a sliver of amusement slipping through his wary mask. He glanced down at the paper and opened, reading what was written on it, an amused look spreading over his features as he processed the words.

“Most certainly,” Qui-Gon assured with a slight smile, staring at Obi-Wan with a heated look. “If you’re concerned about rent, don’t be.” Qui-Gon added, resting a hand lightly on Obi-Wan’s knee. “The owner is _more_ than happy to offer room-and-board in return for working in the shop.”

“Room-and-board hmm?” Obi-Wan smirked, raising an eyebrow as he looked back at Qui-Gon. “And would that be _all_ the owner would be offering me?”

“The owner would certainly offer you anything,” Qui-Gon replied. “But only if you’re willing to accept it.”

“And if I am?” Obi-Wan leaned forward.

Qui-Gon swallowed, gaze dropping to Obi-Wan’s lips before flicking back up to the deep blue-green of Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Then the owner would happily accommodate your needs.”

Obi-Wan hummed, eyes bright, pupils dilated. He smiled at Qui-Gon, a hint of teeth, as he closed the distance between them, pausing at the last second. His breath warmed Qui-Gon’s lips, scant millimetres away and Obi-Wan breathed out. “Then the owner should stop talking about himself in the third person and do something.”

Qui-Gon moved forward just as Obi-Wan closed the last distance between their lips and they fell back against the bed, Qui-Gon sprawling over Obi-Wan’s body as they kissed fervently. Obi-Wan groaned lowly, eyes closed as he arched up against Qui-Gon, one hand in his hair, the other fisting in the back of Qui-Gon’s shirt. One of Qui-Gon’s hands pillowed Obi-Wan’s head, the other gripping his upper arm as he ground down against him.

Obi-Wan cried into the kiss, the hand in Qui-Gon’s hair gripping the strands tightly and pulling causing Qui-Gon to hiss out a moan in response.

Breaking the kiss Qui-Gon pressed wet kisses along Obi-Wan’s jaw, listening to the quiet litany of Obi-Wan’s curses and whispered words, biting lightly when Obi-Wan’s panted breaths calmed and causing him to arch up against him, moaning wantonly. Qui-Gon bit Obi-Wan’s neck, pulling his hand from beneath Obi-Wan’s head and pushed up Obi-Wan’s shirt, exposing his stomach. Hand splayed, Qui-Gon pressed gently against Obi-Wan’s stomach as he rolled his hips and nipped at Obi-Wan’s neck, the sharp cry from Obi-Wan’s lips as the he tried to arch up against Qui-Gon only to be stopped by the hand on his stomach making Qui-Gon’s cock ache.

Obi-Wan writhed beneath him, pulling sharply on Qui-Gon’s hair as he forced his eyes open and stared up at Qui-Gon. “Are you going to fuck me or play with me?” He asked, voice deep and hoarse, pupils blown wide, the blue-green of his eyes all but eaten by desire.

“Which would you prefer?” Qui-Gon asked, the hand on Obi-Wan’s stomach dropping to the hem of his jeans and making Obi-Wan’s stomach tense. Playing with the button of Obi-Wan’s jeans, Qui-Gon smiled, eyes dark and full of want.

Obi-Wan whimpered, squirming as Qui-Gon pressed the palm of his hand against the bulge in Obi-Wan’s jeans. “Oh God,” he breathed, fingers tangled in Qui-Gon’s hair, head pressed back against the pillow, eyes rolling back. “ _Fuck_.”

“In time,” Qui-Gon murmured, slowly kneading Obi-Wan’s cock through his jeans with his palm, fingers pressing through the denim against the base causing Obi-Wan to keen and rock his hips up, pressing his trapped cock harder against Qui-Gon’s palm. “Patience-”

“Is not a virtue I possess right now,” Obi-Wan growled out, eyes locking with Qui-Gon’s as he pulled Qui-Gon’s head down. “Please,” he breathed, brushing his lips against Qui-Gon’s. “Qui-Gon _please_.”

Qui-Gon swallowed. He nodded, undoing the button on Obi-Wan’s jeans, the zipper following and slipped his hand into Obi-Wan’s underwear, fingers lightly ghosting over the hard, throbbing heat of Obi-Wan’s cock.

He slid his fingers around Obi-Wan’s cock, tips of his fingers pressing against the base and top of Obi-Wan’s balls, making Obi-Wan moan breathlessly, arching up into his hand. Qui-Gon kissed him, open mouthed and desperate, his tongue tasting and plundering Obi-Wan’s pliant mouth, swallowing his moans and gasps as Qui-Gon worked his cock.

Obi-Wan’s hands gripped the back of Qui-Gon’s shirt, one leg hooked around Qui-Gon’s hips as he rocked up into Qui-Gon’s hand. Qui-Gon brushed over Obi-Wan’s taunt nipples with his free hand, Obi-Wan jerked up against him, a keening moan swallowed by Qui-Gon’s lips.

Breaking the kiss, Qui-Gon dropped his head down to Obi-Wan’s chest, pushing the shirt out of his way with his hand, and Obi-Wan let go of his back long enough to pull it off over his head, tossing it somewhere near the bed.

Gasping, Obi-Wan’s head fell back, hands gripping Qui-Gon’s forearms. He let out a sharp cry when Qui-Gon’s mouth covered a nipple, tongue lapping against the nub before his lightly nipped it, never ceasing in his working of Obi-Wan’s cock as he did so.

“Oh God!” Obi-Wan cried, body shaking. “Oh fuck… I’m- I-”

Qui-Gon raised his head slightly, gaze catching Obi-Wan’s as he squeezed Obi-Wan’s cock, twisting his fingers and making Obi-Wan keen. “Come for me Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon whispered, voice deep and full of want, breath ghosting over Obi-Wan’s chest.

Tongue darting out, Qui-Gon licked Obi-Wan’s nipple, blowing on it gently before he nipped it, making Obi-Wan writhe and arch up.

“I can’t- Oh- fuck I-” Obi-Wan cried out, entire body tensing as he arched up, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, hands gripping Qui-Gon’s arms. Qui-Gon slipped a hand behind Obi-Wan’s head, fisting Obi-Wan’s cock and squeezing, moving his hand up and down in smooth arcs as Obi-Wan came.

Slumping back on the bed, Obi-Wan panted. Qui-Gon let go of his cock, feeling pressure build in his stomach and he groaned, working a hand into his own jeans and gripping his cock. Qui-Gon pumped up and down furiously, twisting his fingers and grazing the head of his cock with the palm of his hand as he did, hips rocking back and forth as he knelt over Obi-Wan and fucked his hand in front of him.

Obi-Wan stared up at him, glassy eyed and lax limbed. He let out a breath, watching as Qui-Gon squeezed his own cock tighter, staring down at Obi-Wan’s face, eyes locked. Obi-Wan reached up slowly, his hand joining Qui-Gon’s around Qui-Gon’s cock, fingers tentative but firm.

Qui-Gon groaned lowly as Obi-Wan’s hand wrapped around Qui-Gon’s own and they moved together, working his cock. He leaned down, capturing Obi-Wan’s mouth in a kiss, free hand tangling in Obi-Wan’s hair, chest heaving as he fucked his and Obi-Wan’s hand, the not quite pain pressure of orgasm building sharply.

Obi-Wan’s other hand cupped his jaw, fingers splayed as he tried to pull Qui-Gon’s head closer. He broke the kiss abruptly, mouthing at Qui-Gon’s jaw, nipping skin and soothing it with light kisses. Obi-Wan pressed his lips against Qui-Gon’s ear, licking the shell of Qui-Gon’s ear and whispered. “Come for me Qui.”

Qui-Gon groaned, hips stuttering, the hand on his cock tightening and he pressed his face into Obi-Wan’s neck, biting down on the tender flesh as he spent himself over Obi-Wan beneath him.

Obi-Wan held him, arms wrapping around Qui-Gon’s shoulders, pulling him down to lie half atop Obi-Wan. It took Qui-Gon a long time to regain himself, blinking stupidly as his heart calmed, breathing returning to normal, limbs lax and loose in the way a good fuck made them. He breathed in the scent of sweat-slicked skin, aftershave, the sharp tang of sex in the air and raised his head to look at Obi-Wan who stared at him, hand in Qui-Gon’s hair, tenderly petting his head.

“That was nice,” Obi-Wan said softly, smiling tiredly at Qui-Gon who huffed out a surprised laugh. “What? Did you expect me to hate it?” Obi-Wan laughed softly. “I haven’t had a good handjob in, oh, probably a year or so.”

Qui-Gon smiled, amused despite the sleepy post-sex haze trying to settle over him. “I suppose I’m surprised that you’re so calm about this.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have normal reactions to abnormal situations. Not sure if it’s genetic or just an ingrained habit.” He shrugged, lips quirking in a half smile. “Besides, sex is good when it’s consensual. This was consensual, ergo it was good.”

“You have the strangest thought process,” Qui-Gon commented, a sort of bewildered amused look on his face as he stared at Obi-Wan. “I find it quite endearing.”

Obi-Wan laughed softly. “I was right the first time then.” At Qui-Gon’s curious look he elaborated. “Weirdo.”

Qui-Gon chuckled, unable to disagree. “I suppose you were.”

Obi-Wan squirmed and Qui-Gon frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Obi-Wan smirked at him, legs moving and Qui-Gon hissed when Obi-Wan’s hand gripped the hem of his jeans. “Clothing is what’s wrong right now. Damned annoying to sleep it without the post-sex mess on top.”

Qui-Gon laughed, forcing his body to obey his wishes and he stripped off his shirt and jeans in quick order, pausing only when he realised he was uncertain whether Obi-Wan would be okay with him ditching the underwear as well.

Obi-Wan looked at him, somehow picking up on Qui-Gon’s uncertainty and he grinned. “I’ve already had a hand on it, it’s not going to bother me sleeping next to it without any precious material to protect my virtue Qui-Gon.” And before Qui-Gon could say anything in his defence, Obi-Wan wriggled out of his own underwear, dropping them on top of his jeans on the floor by the bed.

Qui-Gon’s cock twitched at the sight of Obi-Wan sat before him, completely naked, but he was more than aware that he lacked the stamina of his youth and with a sigh Qui-Gon slipped off his own underwear, dropping them on the floor by the bed. He leaned over Obi-Wan, the other man staring up at him with burning eyes and Qui-Gon forced himself to focus on opening the draw of the cabinet beside the bed, groping inside the draw. He smiled as he pulled out a pack of wipes, opening the pack and wiping off the sticky fluid from his hands. Obi-Wan took the pack when he offered it, cleaning off Qui-Gon’s come slowly, gaze locked on Qui-Gon’s face.

Qui-Gon swallowed thickly, his spent cock throbbing in a way that told him if he’d been ten years younger he’d be ready for another round soon. Taking the pack back, Qui-Gon tossed it on the cabinet, the used wipes ending up in the small bin beneath the cabinet, before he lay down next to Obi-Wan on his side, facing him.

Obi-Wan stared at him, pupils still dilated.

“If I had the energy right now I’d demand you fuck me into the mattress,” he said suddenly and Qui-Gon moaned.

“Oh God don’t say that,” Qui-Gon moaned, closing his eyes. “I’m not that young damn it.”

Obi-Wan smiled, reaching out and pulling Qui-Gon towards him, pressing a chaste, tender kiss to his lips.

“Young enough to be damned irresistible,” Obi-Wan murmured, eyelids dropping. “But not as irresistible as sleep it seems.”

Qui-Gon smiled softly, reaching out and tracing Obi-Wan’s face with his fingers.

“I feel like I know you already, even though we’ve not long met,” he confessed softly, almost as though he were admitting a secret he didn’t desire to share. “It’s so strange, like fate.”

“There’s no fate but what we make,” Obi-Wan quoted, pressing his face against the palm of Qui-Gon’s hand. “But if this is fate, it’s quite a nice one.”

Qui-Gon smiled. “Indeed.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

23rd April, 2015:

“You’re telling me that the fondest memory you have of your friends is the time Garen ruined your _pizza_?” Qui-Gon asked, honestly amazed.

Obi-Wan nodded, swallowing a mouthful of food before laughing. “Yep.”

“Dare I ask for details?” Qui-Gon smiled, staring at Obi-Wan. “I imagine that Garen can ruin a pizza in a multitude of ways, some of which I doubt would be appropriate to talk about in public.”

Obi-Wan grinned.

“You have no idea,” he said, amusement clear in his voice and bright eyes. “But in this case, it was more to do with the fact that my dear friend had been a stranger to me prior to the unfortunate destruction of my pizza.”

“Okay I’ll bite,” Qui-Gon said, giving Obi-Wan an expectant look.

Obi-Wan’s eyebrow raised.

“I know you do,” he quipped, gratified to see a faint blush colour Qui-Gon’s cheeks before he continued. “It was second year of undergrad. I’d ended up in new accommodation at the uni, and missed Fresher’s week so I knew literally none of my flatmates or really any of my dorm.”

Obi-Wan reached out and plucked his glass from the table, taking a sip before continuing. “So, I ended up unpacking my stuff the weekend after Fresher’s, not seeing sight nor sign of my flatmates – all curled up unconscious in their beds from excessive drinking.” Qui-Gon huffed a quiet laugh and Obi-Wan’s grin widened. “Monday night arrives, I’m exhausted from unpacking and running around the campus signing up for clubs and societies like the overachiever I really am. I’m too tired to make anything proper so I decide ‘hey why not that pizza in the freezer you have’ and it seems like a _brilliant_ idea. Truly inspired.”

Qui-Gon picked up his own drink, taking a long sip from it as Obi-Wan continued speaking.

“Problem was I underestimated the inattentiveness of my flatmates.” Obi-Wan’s eyes softened, fondness for his friends obvious for Qui-Gon to see. “My pizza is in the damned oven for ten minutes, ten minutes, before it’s _attacked_ by a tray of waffles!” Qui-Gon started laughing. “It’s not- it’s not funny! This was a beautiful, two-ninety-nine pizza from ASDA and it deserved more respect than having a mangy tray with _potato_ _waffles_ shoved on top of it by a hungover, insane mammoth of a man!”

Obi-Wan was grinning widely, his own laughter mingling with Qui-Gon’s. “I nearly throttled Garen before I’d even learnt his name over a damned pizza.” Obi-Wan wiped tears from his eyes, grinning so much his face hurt. “God but his reaction was hilarious. I’d never seen someone panic so much and weep over destroying a pizza through sheer ignorance.”

Qui-Gon’s laughter subsided and he shook his head ruefully. “That is honestly… well from what I know of Garen it seems entirely too plausible that he’d be a mess on the floor over a pizza,” Qui-Gon said, smiling and drinking from his glass. “Fortunately they don’t murder unsuspecting pizza’s here.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, holding his own glass in his hand. “I bloody well hope not, the price of some of these appetisers is absurd.”

“Excellent quality is worth the price,” Qui-Gon argued, tilting his head.

“I can cook most of these damned things, for far less, with far cheaper produce,” Obi-Wan refuted, shaking his head. “I mean they’re so pedantically named. Why not call the food what it is? Fish and chips is fish and chips no matter where you go. Why bother with going on about ‘freshly caught haddock from the high rivers of Scotland’? I don’t care where it came from, only that it’s edible!”

Qui-Gon shook his head in amusement. “You miss the point of fine dining.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Or perhaps I just think it’s unnecessarily pedantic and wasteful. Not to mention conceited when it caters to the rich, the super-rich and the entitled.”

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I’m rich, super-rich and entitled?” He asked, amused.

“Of course not!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, eyebrows raised in surprise. “But you don’t do this daily. Most fine-dining establishments are designed, and often cater to the same clients over long periods of time. It’s the _definition_ of elitism and entitlement.”

“People don’t pay for the food Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon argued calmly, amused at how riled up Obi-Wan was getting. The light flush of emotion on Obi-Wan’s cheeks brought out his blue-green eyes, bright with fiery anger. “They pay for the atmosphere. I won’t disagree with you that the system of fine-dining is exclusive, but there are many things in life that are exclusive. As is the nature of the society in which we have grown up in. Whether or not it is right matters little, it is what it is. We can only work to exist within that system and try to change it when and where we can, without causing unnecessary harm to others as we do so.”

Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon, eyes narrowing as he realised. “You were trying to get a rise out of me!” Obi-Wan accused, sparks of real anger showing in his eyes. Qui-Gon hesitated. “You were!”

“I saw that you felt strongly about the venue but I didn’t choose the conversation topic Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon replied calmly, internally concerned with how defensive Obi-Wan was suddenly being. It didn’t fit with the impassioned, intelligent, caring young man he had come to know over the past week.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “You’re right,” he said quietly, shoulders slumping. “I- I’m sorry. I don’t like getting angry about things, least of all in public.” He admitted softly, rubbing his face with a hand.

“Prior relationship?” Qui-Gon asked carefully, affecting a casual air of curiosity, letting none of his concern show. He doubted Obi-Wan would react well to his concern right now.

Obi-Wan stared at him warily, eyes sharp and Qui-Gon could all but see the fear warring with the budding trust Obi-Wan had in him. It was a difficult battle but Obi-Wan let out another sigh. “Yes. It was not… well I don’t like thinking about it to be honest. It had… a bad ending.”

“The sort that leaves scars,” Qui-Gon said quietly, nodding his understanding. Obi-Wan stared at him. “My last relationship was with someone I had known for many years. He… his father died and he blamed me for it. Suffice to say our relationship ended and I spent several years after being stalked by him until he died two years ago in a freak accident.”

“I’m sorry.” Obi-Wan reached out tentatively, placing a hand over Qui-Gon’s on the table. “My scars are more than just emotional unfortunately, I’m sure you noticed them ah- before. Everyone else I’ve been with has always commented on them.”

Qui-Gon nodded. “I didn’t think it was my place to ask about them. Nor do I believe you need to tell me in some act of reciprocity.” Qui-Gon leaned forward, locking his gaze with Obi-Wan’s and conveying the truth of his words. “You can tell me whatever you wish, whenever you wish. I will not press you or demand answers from you that you’re uncomfortable with sharing.”

“I-” Obi-Wan swallowed thickly. “Thank you.”

Qui-Gon smiled softly. “You’re very welcome Obi-Wan.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here again tonight?” Qui-Gon asked, leaning against the doorframe of the café. It was, again, closed. As it usually was on Sundays: the only day Qui-Gon had decided would be a day off for himself and his staff. “Your friends aren’t back until tomorrow aren’t they?”

Obi-Wan stepped close to Qui-Gon, staring up at him. The height difference between them was increased due to Qui-Gon standing on the small step to the café. “I’ll be fine. It’s one night.” Obi-Wan reassured, smiling. “Bant said she’s arriving at seven. Garen around noon. Nothing will happen to me in seven hours Qui.”

“I think you just jinxed yourself,” Qui-Gon murmured, gaze dropping to Obi-Wan’s lips. “If you’re sure then at least let me save you the cost of a taxi.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, you’d think I’d never had to deal with dangerous situations the way you keep trying to smother me.” His eyes were bright with amusement but his smile was fond. “You can walk me to the taxi rank if you’re so concerned but I’m not getting in your death trap of a car.”

“Says the man who admitted his owns a motorbike,” Qui-Gon huffed, smirking as Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and stepped back.

“Owned. I said I _owned_ a motorbike,” Obi-Wan emphasised, pointing a finger at Qui-Gon. “Now stop being facetious. That’s my job description.”

Qui-Gon chuckled, falling into step with Obi-Wan, the pair of them walking down the street towards the taxi rank. Qui-Gon reached out and slipped an arm around Obi-Wan’s waist, pulling the man closer to his side and Obi-Wan responded by dropping his head to rest on Qui-Gon’s shoulder as they walked in silence.

There were a half-dozen taxi’s at the rank, some of them with their lights on, engines ticking over. Obi-Wan raised his head from Qui-Gon’s shoulder and looked up at him, gaze furtive as he debated with himself.

 _‘Just fucking do it Kenobi,’_ he thought and, without thinking of it any further, Obi-Wan darted forward and pressed his lips to Qui-Gon’s own. Qui-Gon responded immediately, hand tangling in Obi-Wan’s hair as he deepened the kiss, turning it into an open-mouthed embrace, tongue tasting and exploring Obi-Wan’s mouth.

The kiss broke and Obi-Wan panted heavily, staring at Qui-Gon with black pools for eyes, Qui-Gon’s own blue eyes all-but swallowed by the black of his dilated pupils.

“Goodnight,” Obi-Wan breathed softly, a sultry smile gracing his features. “We should do this again. With sex. Lots of sex.”

Qui-Gon drew in a ragged breath. “God Obi-Wan,” he groaned, dropping his head so that his forehead rested against Obi-Wan’s. “Definitely.”

Slowly Qui-Gon released his hold on Obi-Wan, stepping back slightly, taking a deep, calming breath. “You should go,” he said, trying to maintain a calm air, but his eyes burned with desire and fire. “Message me when you’re in so I know not to come charging in to save you from a pillow.”

Obi-Wan huffed out a laugh, nodding his head as Qui-Gon smirked. “Maybe I won’t message you then,” he said, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

“You’re incorrigible.” Qui-Gon shook his head, and Obi-Wan grinned. “Go.”

Obi-Wan’s grin faded into a soft smile as he stepped back, gaze still locked on Qui-Gon’s face. “Goodnight Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“Goodnight Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan climb into the nearest taxi, standing at the side of the road and watching as it pulled out and sped off down the street, disappearing around the corner before he moved.

 _‘You’re in deep Jinn,’_ Qui-Gon thought ruefully, heading back to the café. He raised a hand, pressing his fingers to his lips lightly, feeling the ghostly burn of Obi-Wan’s searing kiss. _‘So fucking deep.’_

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Obi-Wan paid the taxi driver, told him to keep the change, and climbed out of the back of the taxi. As the taxi drove off down his street Obi-Wan stared at his house, threads of trepidation working their way through his thoughts.

 _‘No,’_ he thought determinedly. _‘One night won’t fucking kill you. Get the fuck over it and stop depending on other people to protect you for pity’s sake!’_

He opened the front door, bending over to grab the letters on the matt just inside the hall, and shut the door behind him as he reached out and flipped the switch for the hall light. It was a bright halogen light that illuminated the hallway and half of the stairs. Obi-Wan glanced down at the letters in his hand, quickly riffling through them to see if any were for him, before discarding them on the window ledge near the door. He turned and locked the front door, putting on the security chain as he did so.

He’d be up in time for Bant in the morning. If he slept at all tonight of course.

_Home safe. Go to sleep Qui._

Obi-Wan pocketed his phone, not bothering to check if it was on silent or not and pulled off his shoes before taking off his jacket and hanging it on the peg by the door.

Sighing, Obi-Wan opened the door to the front room, hitting the light for the room as he stepped over the threshold. The light didn’t come on.

Frowning Obi-Wan fished out his phone from his pocket, turning on its flashlight function and shone the beam around the room.

 _‘Maybe the breakers have tripped for the kitchen and lounge,’_ he thought hopefully, though he doubted it. If the breakers tripped the hall light wouldn’t have come on since the lights were on a separate fuse to the rest of the electrical outlets in the downstairs. _‘Yeah right.’_

Obi-Wan crept forward slowly, careful to avoid the sofa and armchair, heading towards the door for the kitchen. He pushed the door open, shining the light across the expanse of the kitchen.

Nothing looked to be out of place.

Obi-Wan stepped into the kitchen, moving in the direction of the counter when his phone buzzed and made him jump.

“Shit,” he cursed, fumbling with his phone and unlocking the screen. He read Qui-Gon’s message.

 _I’ll dream of you_.

Obi-Wan blushed. “Fucking scared the shit out of me.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, Obi-Wan turned, trusting instinct and cried out in surprise when a black-clad figure slammed into him, sending him flying into the fridge behind him.

His phone clattered to the ground, the light shining up at the ceiling and Obi-Wan groaned, blinking back dizziness. He stared at the black-clothed individual moving towards him, the glint of something in his hand spurring Obi-Wan to move.

Adrenaline coursing through his system, Obi-Wan shoved himself up from the floor, meeting the other person head on. He ducked a lightning quick slash, the glint revealing itself to be a knife, and side-stepped.

“Who _the fuck_ are you?” Obi-Wan spat, arms raised in a defensive posture as he stared at the other.

The other person snarled out a dark laugh. “Palpatine sends his regards Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened, breath stuttered in his chest. “No.” He shook his head. “Palpatine’s rotting somewhere in a Russian prison.”

“Money makes the world go round Kenobi.” The man – his voice telling Obi-Wan more than the black ensemble – said in a quiet voice.

The other man darted forward, one hand swinging towards Obi-Wan’s face in a fist that Obi-Wan blocked, the other arcing low, straight for his gut and Obi-Wan’s other hand slammed into the hand wielding the blade.

He grappled with the other man, trying furiously to gain enough leverage to disarm him, but the other man was skilled, Obi-Wan was still dazed from being slammed into the fucking fridge, and he wasn’t able to dodge when the man kicked at Obi-Wan’s ankle.

Obi-Wan cried out, dropping down onto one knee, ankle twisting painfully as he lost his grip on the other man’s arms.

Quick as a flash, the other man kneed Obi-Wan in the face, sending him flying back onto the ground, and Obi-Wan groaned, white fire burning through his mind as blood poured from his nose.

The other man dropped down, kneeling over Obi-Wan, pinning one of his hands to his side, the other caught in a vice grip. Obi-Wan blinked back the pain, trying to focus as the other man leaned down over him.

“He told me not to kill you,” the man said, his voice a deep, raw growl that still somehow sounded contemplative. Obi-Wan felt the sharp coolness of a blade pressing against his throat. “I don’t understand why. You’re worthless.”

Obi-Wan breathed through his open mouth, staring up at the man with wide eyes. The dark blackness of the balaclava obscured his features, but Obi-Wan could easily see his eyes in the light from his phone.

“What do you want more?” Obi-Wan managed to say, swallowing thickly and wincing when the blade nicked his neck. The man stared down at him, eyes deep brown. “To kill me or to deal with Palpatine if you do?”

The man blinked. He laughed, dark and full of a cruel sort of malice that Obi-Wan knew only too well. “Palpatine is one man,” the man said, leaning down so that his face was scant inches from Obi-Wan’s.

“With a lot of power,” Obi-Wan pointed out, not blinking. The pain in his nose had dulled to a deep throbbing ache, he ignored it, focusing all of his attention on the man kneeling over him. “You shouldn’t underestimate him.”

The blade pressed down harder against Obi-Wan’s neck and he tensed, not breathing.

“You shouldn’t underestimate _me_ ,” the man hissed, grip on Obi-Wan’s wrist tightening to a near painful degree. Obi-Wan gritted his teeth, forcing himself to draw in a slight breath, refusing to look away from the man who literally held his life in his hands.

“I don’t even know who you are,” Obi-Wan said trying to not let his voice waver, fear of what this man could do to him ruthlessly suppressed.

“Maul,” the man said after a moment. “I will be the one to kill you Kenobi.”

There was a promise in those words, but it was one that would not be fulfilled tonight. Obi-Wan blinked. The blade at his throat disappeared and he took a deep breath, tensing his muscles, preparing to try and throw Maul off him.

Maul slipped a hand into the pocket of his jacket, pulled out a cloth and Obi-Wan couldn’t smell it through the blood now drying to his face and clogging his nose, but he tasted an acrid tang in the air as he breathed in.

“No.” He started to squirm, trying to pull himself free of Maul’s grip, the hand trapped at his side twisting desperately. Obi-Wan thrashed beneath Maul, head raised and he kicked uselessly, unable to dislodge him. “No!”

Maul grinned, his lips pulling back and revealing white teeth that contrasted sharply with the balaclava obscuring his face. He ignored Obi-Wan’s cries, pressing the cloth over Obi-Wan’s mouth and nose causing Obi-Wan to shout in pain from the pressure on his broken nose.

He tried to fight, thrashing and writhing desperately, tried not to breathe, but he couldn’t help it. He breathed in. “No!” His cry was muffled by the soaked cloth pressed against his mouth.

Eyes slipping shut, Obi-Wan blinked, forcing them open even as his thrashing grew weaker and more sluggish. _‘No.’_

The last thing Obi-Wan saw before unconsciousness claimed him was Maul staring down at him, a cruel smile on his lips and malicious delight shining in his eyes.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

 _‘Seriously?’_ Bant though as she banged on the front door, frowning in annoyance. Crouching down she lifted the flap of the letter box, pushing her hand through and lifting the second flap revealing the hall. _‘Why the hell is the security chain on for God’s sake!’_

“Obi-Wan!” She called through the letter box, staring at the open door to the front room. “Obi-Wan?”

The curtains were closed and Obi-Wan always closed doors after him, even if he was so drunk he couldn’t stand. That the door to the front room was open but the curtains weren’t worried Bant more than she’d admit.

“Okay,” she said to herself, standing up and searching through her keys. The backdoor was seldom used but she had a copy of the key on her keyring. Obi-Wan had insisted on it. Never had she been so happy to indulge in the paranoia of her friends.

She pulled her suitcase behind her, walking to the gate to the small backyard to the house, lifting the latch up and raising an unamused eyebrow. Garen said he’d locked it before he left damnit! _‘Of course he didn’t,’_ Bant thought in annoyance. _‘Typical of him really.’_

The backdoor was unlocked, door shut and Bant hesitated. The front curtains were shut. The security chain for the door on. But the back door _and_ the back gate were unlocked.

‘Oh shit,’ she thought, opening the door as quietly as possible, wincing at the way the hinges creaked. _‘Please let there be nothing wrong.’_

“Obi-Wan!” Bant gasped, dropping down next to Obi-Wan, sprawled out on the kitchen floor. She grabbed his shoulder, shaking him. “Obi-Wan!”

His face was lax, eyes shut. Bant cursed. She pulled him into her lap, reaching for her phone in her back pocket and hit speed dial for Vos.

“Vos,” Bant said, voice full of worry and fear. “Get over here. Now. Back door. Obi-Wan’s hurt.” She hung up before he could say anything, thankful that the man had been awake to answer her call.

She dialled the emergency number, looking around the kitchen taking in the relative tidiness of the room. The fridge was skewed Bant realised.

A quiet moan had Bant’s focus snapping onto Obi-Wan, his eyes opening sluggishly as he grimaced. “Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes shot open, a terrified cry erupting from his lips as he scrambled weakly against her, fighting off an unseen foe. Cursing Bant dropped her phone, clattering to the ground uselessly, using her arms to keep Obi-Wan pinned against her as she talked calmly to him. “Obi-Wan it’s all right. It’s okay Obi-Wan. It’s me, it’s Bant. You’re _safe_.”

His hands latched onto her arm, fingers digging into her skin and she winced _. ‘What the hell happened?’_ she thought, clinging back just as tightly, making soft noises and rocking them back and forth.

The sound of a muffled voice, tinny and quiet caught Bant’s attention and she looked down at her phone, realising that her call had connected to an operator. Letting go of Obi-Wan with one hand, Bant picked the phone up and put it to her ear.

 _“Hello can you hear me?”_ The voice asked and Bant felt like laughing.

“Yes,” she said, voice as calm as she could make it. “I need to report-”

Obi-Wan’s hand on her arm tightened to the point of pain and Bant hissed, looking down at him. He stared at her, eyes wide and shook his head. “Don’t.” His voice was low, barely above a whisper.

Tipping the phone so that the microphone was away from her face, Bant glared at him and said, “Obi-Wan you need to be checked. The police-”

“Can’t do anything,” Obi-Wan cut her off, voice raspy and weak. He stared at her, pleading. “Bant please. People will get hurt if the police get involved.”

Bant stared at him, her own sense of preservation and common sense warring with her need to listen to her friend and understand Obi-Wan’s motivations. Sighing she nodded. “Fine.”

Putting the phone back to her face, Bant spoke to the operator. “I’m sorry. It’s a false emergency. Some sort of prank by my friends, I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

The woman on the phone wasn’t pleased but accepted her word for it, asking her briefly if she was “certain” and to “answer in simple yes or no statements if she was in a dangerous situation.” It was admirable and Bant was honestly pleased with the way the operator was handling everything, but she had an injured friend, a story to hear and an incoming neighbour who was impossible to deal with when angry.

“Thank you but no, everything is fine. I’m so sorry for bothering you, I know you have a busy job and this sort of false alarm is time-consuming and problematic,” Bant said calmly, tone apologetic. The operator responded politely and with a final comment on calling if she was “ever in need of emergency assistance” Bant was able to end the call and focus entirely on Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan shivered, near curled up in her lap and Bant pursed her lips. “Obi-Wan. What happened?”

He shook his head and Bant frowned. “Obi-Wan-” she began but he cut her off again.

“Not yet,” he whispered, pleaded almost. Obi-Wan looked at her, a look of intense pain, fear, and grief on his face. Bant felt her heart stutter in her chest at seeing such emotion on her friend’s face. “I can only tell this story once Bant.”

“Okay.” Bant nodded slowly, voice soft. “Garen will be here by two, Vos is on his way. Siri is out of town still and Reeft is coming with Garen.” She stared at Obi-Wan, silently questioning him if that was all.

“There’s someone else who needs to be here as well,” Obi-Wan said, head resting against her side.

“Who?” Bant asked.

Obi-Wan let out a choked sort of half-sobbing laugh. “Qui-Gon.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

“I was eighteen and stupid,” Obi-Wan began, staring at the mug of tea in his hands. A blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, slight tremors in his frame, grip on the mug white-knuckled. He didn’t look at any of those assembled in the room.

Qui-Gon, Bant, Garen, and Reeft sat in the front room, watching Obi-Wan silently. Vos had left not long after Obi-Wan had calmed down enough to stand. He hadn’t been pleased at being told “everything is fine” but he hadn’t pushed, respecting Obi-Wan’s choice. Before he had left however, he’d pulled Bant aside, telling her to come to him if she needed help. Or if Obi-Wan did. Obi-Wan didn’t mind Vos knowing about his past but, while he loved Quinlan deeply, he honestly couldn’t handle the indignant anger his friend would unleash when hearing Obi-Wan’s story.

He had whispered to Bant that she could tell Vos later, trusting her to be as accurate as possible with her recount and able to handle Vos’ temper in response to Obi-Wan’s past.

“College was, well college was fun but it wasn’t a challenge. The classes were entertaining but I found the material less difficult than I’d been led to believe in high school,” Obi-Wan continued. “After the first term I ended up being put on what was essentially an honours thing. It was an AQA course where you did extra work, wrote essays, made presentations, reports; that sort of thing.” Obi-Wan smiled bitterly at his tea. “A guest lecturer was invited to the college for the course; a business entrepreneur: to help ‘inspire us’ they said.”

Obi-Wan took a sip of his tea, hands trembling as he lowered the mug back to the floor. He was sat, cross-legged on the carpet, back to the wall, with full view of the doors and windows.

“I talked to him, found him interesting. I liked him,” Obi-Wan confessed, voice near a whisper. “I knew I was bi; it was pretty fucking obvious when you end up making out with a guy at a house party in the summer after dating only girls and realising both were equally appealing. But I wasn’t obsessed with sex, didn’t really care for it unless I was drunk or cared about them in some way.”

Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan, a niggling feeling that he knew where the conversation was going and not liking it. If Obi-Wan had… had relations with someone and they were still bothering him, what, six years later? Then Qui-Gon honestly understood why Obi-Wan was so cautious and reluctant to get too involved in a relationship.

“I ended up trading details with him, meeting up with him and working on my extended project,” Obi-Wan said, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “One day he sent me a text, asking me to meet him and, I didn’t even think. I said okay and next thing I was at his fucking house, drinking and sharing a damned meal with him!”

“He- he was the first person I was honestly attracted to, and it wasn’t even sexual- not really,” Obi-Wan tried to explain, hunching his shoulders, voice defensive and quiet. “I liked him and how he made me feel important, brilliant and listened to me talk about computers and coding. I- I liked how he seemed interested in _my_ _interests_ you know?”

Obi-Wan looked up, eyes beseeching. His friends stared him, their faces a mixture of pity, grief and muted anger because they knew, they understood where this was going. Only Qui-Gon gave him a sad, understanding nod. “I know.” Qui-Gon said softly. “I know.”

“After a while I- I… I guess it could be argued I came onto him,” Obi-Wan said, shifting uncomfortably. “At least, that’s what the police said but I- I don’t remember much of what happened, only… only the morning after.”

Qui-Gon hissed out an angry breath, hands clenching in his lap.

“Shit Obi-Wan.” Garen breathed, eyes wide, full of horror and the kind of disbelief felt when what is heard isn’t wished to be believed but is known to be true.

“Yeah.” Obi-Wan lifted up a trembling hand, scrubbing at his face with it, digging the heel of his hand into his eye. “Anyway I- I didn’t realise it at the time, I just thought ‘oh I was drunk that explains it’ and moved on. Into a relationship.”

 _‘With his rapist,’_ Qui-Gon thought, horrified beyond belief. _‘Oh God Obi-Wan.’_

“It was- was months into it all, from the day I met him, and by the time I realised what he was- it was too late.” Obi-Wan sniffed back tears, shaking his head bitterly. “What everyone thought was a legitimate businessman was actually a master fucking criminal, with connections to police, politics and underground crime rings across Europe.”

“Oh God,” Bant whispered, looking at Obi-Wan, her eyes full of pain and grief. “How did you find out?”

“Pure fucking chance that’s how.” Obi-Wan snorted, looking up at Bant, his eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. “I’d never gone in his study before, he always kept it locked when I was there. But he forgot to lock it one day and I- I was curious.” Obi-Wan shook his head derisively. “I’m too fucking curious for my own good sometimes.”

“What did you do?” Reeft asked softly, a distressed look on his face.

“I couldn’t run. What little I saw that first time told me that if I ran he’d follow, he’d know why I ran and I’d- I’d regret it.” Obi-Wan explained, looking at Reeft. “So I didn’t run.”

“Fucking hell Obi-Wan!” Garen exclaimed quietly, absolute disbelief in his voice. “Did you at least go to the police?”

“And tell them what?” Obi-Wan shot back, eyes bright with angered pain. “That I’d let myself get fucked by an older man, tied to a bed every time I went to his house and oh yeah ‘he might have drugged me the first time and could be a fucking criminal, could you please go check him out, thank you very much’? Yeah that would have worked well with someone so fucking respected in the community he had parents begging him to come to their babies’ christenings!”

The room was silent, none of them knowing how to respond and Obi-Wan snorted. “Yeah.”

“I had to get evidence.” Obi-Wan looked down at his lap. “It was the only way I had any chance of having a life outside of being his fucktoy.”

Obi-Wan smiled suddenly, looking up at them. There was a bitter sort of anger in his gaze, accompanied by mania. “So I hacked his computer.”

There was a beat of silence before four voice exclaimed in unison. “ _What?_ ”

“I hacked his computer,” Obi-Wan repeated, amused at their reaction despite the way his body still shook. “It wasn’t as difficult as you’d think. His study was harder to break into most of the time.”

“You’re literally insane,” Garen said, starting at Obi-Wan. “Literally.”

“If you think that’s grounds for insanity then what I did next will probably make your head explode,” Obi-Wan said dryly. Garen cursed. “I spent weeks finding out as much as I could, every scrap of information I could get my hands on. Then, when I thought I had enough… I went to the police.”

“And that’s crazy how exactly?” Reeft asked curiously.

“I went to the local police.” Obi-Wan pointed out. “The local police who knew him personally. Who invited him to their annual meetings and treated him like a fucking god.”

“Oh, that’s… that’s not good.” Garen grimaced. “What happened?”

“What do you think happened? I got escorted to an interrogation room and left there for four fucking hours.” Obi-Wan snarled, still angry at what had happened to him. “I had just turned 19, I was fucking terrified I was going to get murdered in my sleep by the man I was getting fucked by, and there I was, in a fucking interrogation room with the door locked.”

“What did they do to you?” Qui-Gon asked, voice strained. Obi-Wan looked at him, a sad smile on his face.

“ _They_ didn’t do anything to me.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “Their report stated that they had contacted the focus of my ‘complaint’ directly and informed him a complaint had been made against him. Then they invited him down to the station to ‘talk’ to them.”

Qui-Gon drew in a sharp breath. Garen cursed. Bant and Reeft both shook their heads mutely.

“I’m sure you can imagine my reaction to the door opening and instead of some beleaguered officer walking through it was _him_.” Obi-Wan smiled, shaking at the memory his words evoked. He could still hear him, smell him…

“I thought I was going to die right then and there; I was terrified out of my fucking mind.” Obi-Wan shook his head, looking down at his mug. “I tried to open the door, tried to get out, get away from him. And the entire time I was shouting and trying to break down that fucking door he sat there, patiently. Just watching. And then he started talking.”

Obi-Wan shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. “Everything he said made me more and more terrified, I was nearly mad with fear.” Obi-Wan explained. “He told me: come back with me, let’s talk about this Obi-Wan, there’s no need for these hysterics.”

Obi-Wan looked up at them, his gaze locking with Qui-Gon’s. “No need for these hysterics. He actually said that,” Obi-Wan smiled brokenly. “And I did. I went back with him, and the damned fucking police apologised to him for _my_ behaviour. Made it out like _I_ was the problem and not him.”

Obi-Wan wiped away the angry tears rolling down his face, a bitter, twisted smile on his face. “I thought I’d never see my family again. That I was going to die that night and here were the police, the people I thought would protect me, apologising to him! I felt like I was going mad.”

“What happened when you…” Garen trailed off awkwardly.

“He insisted I stay the night,” Obi-Wan replied. “He insisted so much that he had some friends help convince me to stay.”

Obi-Wan could still remember the way he’d been grabbed, arms twisted behind his back, a gloved hand plastering itself over his hand, another grabbing his leg when he kicked out. And that fucking needle in the side of neck…

“I woke up in ‘my room’ with no chance of getting out,” Obi-Wan said, shifting and bringing his knees up to his chest. “I was there for… I don’t know, it felt like forever but I found out later it had been less than a week. Only a few days and it felt endless.” Obi-Wan dropped his head onto his knees, squeezing his eyes shut. “Ani found my back up files on my laptop when he needed it for homework after his died. He was nine years old and he figured out what had to be done quicker than I did.”

Obi-Wan lifted his head, looking at them and he smiled a watery-smile, eyes shining with pride. “He put everything I’d found out straight onto the net. Interpol and Scotland Yard fucking ploughed over the local police so quickly, Palpatine didn’t have a fucking chance.”

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see an armed response team pointing guns at me in my life,” Obi-Wan whispered. “I hadn’t left that room in days, refused to eat or sleep. I probably looked like a lunatic or something, but they must have known who I was: from one of the officers at the station or maybe Ani, I don’t know. But they got me out of there and to hospital.”

“Palpatine…” Bant frowned before her eyes widened and she stared at Obi-Wan. “Oh God he was-”

“Yeah, that non-UK national who Interpol had been after for something like twenty years.” Obi-Wan finished, nodding. “It took nearly two years for the case against him to reach a verdict – something to do with issues with the jury – and the last time I saw him was when the judge declared he was to be extradited to Russia for some murder of a junior politician or something. I honestly didn’t care at that point, I just wanted to forget about him.”

“I hope he liked freezing his ass off in Siberia,” Garen muttered and Obi-Wan smiled.

“I hope he did too.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “I moved on with my life, went to uni, got a bachelor’s and applied for a master’s. Every relationship I’ve had since has failed spectacularly because I’ve never been able to talk about this. Never been able to sit down and explain just why I don’t like the idea of kinky sex. Why I’m not a fan of giving blowjobs and deep throating. It- you’d think I was broken the way some of them reacted sometimes.” Bant and Garen both shifted awkwardly, recalling the last boyfriend Obi-Wan had had.

Obi-Wan continued, ignoring their reactions. “I avoid the police unless I have to deal with them because… well, honestly, I don’t trust that they can’t be influenced by Palpatine even if he was rotting away in some Russian prison.”

“I never wanted to tell anyone about any of this, I wanted to forget it all and live my life,” Obi-Wan whispered. “But I can’t even have that.”

“This is related to whoever attacked you isn’t it?” Bant asked softly, reaching out and resting a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder when he nodded.

“He called himself Maul,” Obi-Wan said. “I didn’t have a chance against him. He was too fast, caught me by surprise and knocked me for six.”

“How does this ‘Maul’ connect to Palpatine though?” Reeft asked, frowning.

“He said ‘Palpatine sends his regards Kenobi’ and then knocked me out.” Obi-Wan explained. “He’s out, escaped, released; I don’t fucking know. But he’s back in the country and I can’t go to the fucking police because I don’t know if he’s got them in his pocket already or if I’m dragging you all into this and putting you at risk but I can’t-” Obi-Wan looked at them, shifting his gaze from each of them until he settled on Qui-Gon. “I can’t let you be in danger without even knowing _why_. I won’t do that to any of you.”

“So what are we meant to do?” Garen asked in the silence that fell in the room. “Because, honestly Obi-Wan, I’m not going to let some fucking bastard fuck you over without giving him one hell of a fucking fight.”

“We’re your friends Obi-Wan,” Bant said softly, her eyes hard with determination. “We may not have known you that long but I do know this: you are worth fighting for.”

Reeft nodded, leaning into Garen for unconscious support and Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon.

“I’m not leaving you to this Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said quietly, staring at Obi-Wan. “You remember what I said about not having anyone when I needed someone?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes,” he said, voice cracking with emotion.

“Then know that I won’t leave you now.” Qui-Gon promised, his eyes bright with emotion, a reassuring smile on his face and Obi-Wan let out a breath.

“You’re all going to be in danger.” Obi-Wan pointed out, looking at them all.

“I’d rather we were in danger together than abandon a friend to suffer alone,” Bant replied hotly, and Obi-Wan smiled at her, his heart swelling with affection for her.

“Agreed.” Reeft raised an eyebrow. “Besides, we might not be able to deal with the local police, but there’s always Interpol again,” he said dryly and Obi-Wan blinked.

“Yeah, I didn’t- that,” Obi-Wan paused. “That didn’t actually occur to me to be honest.”

“Evidently.” Reeft smirked. “And how fortunate is it that I just so happen to have an extremely awesome uncle who adores my friends and just so happens to be an Interpol agent in France hmm?”

Garen started laughing and Bant smiled. “Oh yeah! I forgot about that! He terrified the shit out of me when I met your family the summer we got together you know?” Garen grinned at Reeft who nodded, smirking. Garen blinked. “You set him on me didn’t you?”

“Yep.” Reeft grinned, unrepentant. “If it makes you feel any better, he said you were the most stubborn twenty-two year old he’d ever met who had no criminal record.”

“I- I don’t know if that’s actually a compliment to be honest,” Garen said haltingly and Obi-Wan couldn’t help it. He started laughing.

Arms wrapped around his legs, chin on his knees, Obi-Wan felt tears rolling down his face as he laughed hysterically, unable to stop. Qui-Gon slid off the sofa, dropping onto his knees next to Obi-Wan and engulfed him in a hug, wrapping around Obi-Wan like a living, breathing safety-blanket.

Obi-Wan leaned against Qui-Gon, his laughter turning into wet sobs, unwinding an arm around his legs and grabbing at Qui-Gon with it, trying to pull him closer, to hide in Qui-Gon’s warmth.

Qui-Gon was murmuring something to him but Obi-Wan couldn’t understand, couldn’t process anything beyond the desperate need to hide inside Qui-Gon’s arms. A hand slid around Obi-Wan’s shoulders, slender and dark-skinned. Bant.

The sound of movement registered in his mind, the feeling of someone else placing a hand on his knee, rubbing gently. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, sobs wracking his body, mind churning with dissonant thoughts he couldn’t understand while his emotions tore at him.

All that Obi-Wan understood at that moment was that he was safe. The people around him were safe, protecting him and cared for him. And right then, that was all Obi-Wan was able to cling to.

 

*  *  *  *  *

11th May, 2015:

The weeks since Obi-Wan had revealed his past to his friends and Qui-Gon passed slowly, full of wariness and paranoia, every stranger looking his way causing him to go on high-alert. There were many nights where Obi-Wan was unable to sleep, ending up huddled in the corner of his room, textbooks around him as he staved off sleep with coffee and research.

Bant, Garen and Reeft had watched him, careful to never let him go anywhere alone – not even the bathroom – and when they were at uni, one of them was always in constant contact with him. They weren’t able to watch him all the time, and when he was working he was able to spend a few minutes free of their paranoid watchfulness but, even then, they would periodically come into the shop he worked at to check up on him.

At first he’d been annoyed and appreciative of their care and determination to keep him safe, but as days turned into weeks, Obi-Wan found himself growing tiredly resigned to their over-protectiveness.

Even Qui-Gon was becoming overwhelming with it.

All Obi-Wan wanted was a little time to himself, just a few hours where he could sit down and not have to worry if his friends were watching him. The fact that his degree was nearly completed, work handed in and that the last day of term was tomorrow, added to his fierce desire for some alone time.

On one level Obi-Wan knew his thoughts were irrational and foolhardy. Trying to actively avoid his friends when he was in danger from Palpatine wasn’t a good idea, no matter how he looked at it. But Obi-Wan couldn’t rationalise away the fact that he wanted some time to himself, no matter how hard he argued with himself.

It was stupid. It was irrational. It was tempting fate.

And here he was, doing the single-most stupid thing he’d ever done in his life, regardless of sound logic screaming that this was not a good idea.

Reeft had tried to contact his uncle in France, hoping to get them something in order to handle the situation but he’d been informed by his aunt-in-law that his uncle was on a long-term case and couldn’t be contacted. It hadn’t reassured Obi-Wan and when Garen had suggested they try the local police anyway Obi-Wan had been hard-pressed not to scream at him.

_“Palpatine will already have someone on the force, feeding him information.” Obi-Wan stared at Garen with a hard look on his face. “I called up the detective on the case for the home invasion last week. Their ‘suspect’ had been released from custody due to an inter-departmental error.”_

_“Fuck.” Garen stared at Obi-Wan with wide eyes. “You think Palpatine set it up?”_

_“Definitely.” Obi-Wan nodded. “Palpatine doesn’t like loose-ends, he doesn’t like having anyone in a situation where they could weaken him. And if he’s not long got back to the country, he’s going to be working to reaffirm his hold over his organisation. So someone talking to the authorities is not what he wants.”_

_Obi-Wan sat down heavily beside Garen on the sofa, leaning forward and putting his head in his hands. “I expect that whoever it was who attacked me here isn’t able to talk about anything to anyone anymore.”_

_“Shit,” Garen whispered._

_“Yeah.” Obi-Wan agreed. “Shit.”_

His friends had become even more protective of him as a result, closing ranks around him and it had left Obi-Wan near mad with tension and frustration. He loved them, of that there was no doubt, but they were smothering him and he hadn’t done well with anyone trying to control him for a long time now.

And so everything had led him to sneaking out of the house while Garen and Bant were at work, Reeft in his room talking to his parents on skype. Obi-Wan felt bad about taking advantage of Reeft’s long conversations with his parents, but the usual two-hour call Reeft had with them monthly was the best opportunity Obi-Wan was going to get for him to have some time alone.

The front door was locked, chain on and Obi-Wan carefully undid it, opening the door slowly and slipping through it, closing it behind him. He locked it with his key, making sure the catch was on before he walked down the path and onto the street.

Not too far from the house was one of the parks that the city boasted. It was large, with a lake in the centre that Obi-Wan remembered Garen had fallen into after being chased by the geese in the park. Bant had nearly fallen into the lake herself, laughing so hard.

Obi-Wan smiled softly, stuffing his hands into his pockets and walking down the street, shoulders hunched and head focused on the path. Spending an hour in the park sounded nice, especially since it was a clear night and he could see the stars in the sky.

Although Obi-Wan desired time alone, he wasn’t so foolish as to leave the house without his phone. It was in his back pocket on vibrate. He doubted Reeft would end his call to his parents prematurely, but Obi-Wan also knew Reeft would likely send him a message at some point to ‘check up on him’ if his call ran late.

In all honestly, Obi-Wan expected to be back at the house before Reeft even finished talking to his parents, but in case he wasn’t, Obi-Wan was prepared to tell Reeft where he was if he didn’t get back in time.

The park was dimly lit, occasional lamps along the pathways in the park flickering weakly. Under the trees it was near impossible for Obi-Wan to see but, in the clearings the light from the moon and stars was more than enough to make out shapes. Obi-Wan made his way towards the lake, feeling a gentle sort of pleasure at seeing the reflective sheen of blackness interspersed with silver from the night sky.

Sitting down on a bench near the lake, Obi-Wan leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs and stared at the surface of the lake. In the distance Obi-Wan could hear the sound of cars zooming along the dual carriageways and streets around the park. The rustling leaves stirred by the light breeze a gentle overlay to the mechanic humming of engines in the night.

It was peaceful.

Leaning back, head angled upwards, Obi-Wan stared at the stars in the sky, each of them twinkling gently, resolute in their existence. Billions of lightyears of space between them and him, some of them probably long-since burnt out and Obi-Wan felt awed by the sight of them.

He was an infinitesimal creature on a dirt rock with an atmosphere, staring up at the wonder of the universe, unable to grasp the sheer magnitude of it. To the stars, Obi-Wan’s problems meant nothing. To the universe, he was a non-entity. Made up of dust and atoms that have been used and reused since they first came into being, each time forming something equally unique and forgettable.

It soothed Obi-Wan in a way nothing else did, to be able to look up at the stars and know that his life was meaningless to them, but everything to him. He defined his worth, what problems were important and what weren’t. Not the universe, not the stars. Just him.

 _‘I needed this,’_ Obi-Wan thought softly, a gentle smile unfurling on his face as he closed his eyes, basking in the light of the stars _. ‘I needed to remember this.’_

Soft footfalls echoed in Obi-Wan’s ears, mixing in with the rustling leaves as the wind picked up briefly. Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan sat up properly, looking to his left and spotting a man walking along the lake. He watched him warily, cataloguing the way the man moved, relaxing only when Obi-Wan realised the man was heading in the opposite direction to Obi-Wan’s position.

 _‘Probably someone heading home for the night,’_ Obi-Wan thought, body slowly relaxing as the inherent danger of a stranger nearby dissolved. _‘Which I should be doing soon too.’_

Garen and Bant were both due to be home by two, Reeft’s parents would end their call by midnight. Obi-Wan had less than an hour to get back to the house, and the walk took twenty minutes.

 _‘I have some time.’_ Obi-Wan tilted his head back, refocusing his attention on the stars above him.

A shuffling sound caught Obi-Wan’s attention, the crack of a twig breaking somewhere off to his left, and Obi-Wan’s head snapped forward. His heart thudded in his chest and Obi-Wan scrambled up, moving away from the bench as he stared at the darkness in front of him. The trees made it impossible for Obi-Wan to see if anyone was there, his eyes useless in the darkness, and Obi-Wan reached for his phone.

Footsteps echoed behind him suddenly, someone switching from walking on the grass to the pavement, and Obi-Wan spun around in time to see a pale face in the moonlight – eyes shadowed, dark hair – before a fist slammed into his jaw and sent him careening to the side, sprawling on the ground.

Obi-Wan blinked, groaning at the pain blossoming in his jaw, and tried to force his arms and legs to work. Someone dropped down onto a knee beside Obi-Wan, hands reaching out and grabbing Obi-Wan’s arms, pulling them roughly behind his back.

Obi-Wan blinked back the pain, adrenaline coursing through his body and making it easier to ignore the throbbing ache in his jaw. He tried to roll onto his side, pulling at his arms as he did, but the feel of hard plastic around his wrists tightening suddenly made it impossible for him to escape. Zip tie.

Whoever was beside Obi-Wan kept a hold of the tie around Obi-Wan’s wrists, pinning him with minimal effort to the ground. The sound of ruffling made Obi-Wan turn his head, cheek pressed against the ground, and he opened his mouth to shout, only to let out a muffled sound of surprise when a cloth was shoved into his mouth.

More footsteps echoed in the quiet park around him and Obi-Wan was hauled to his feet, bending forward as someone pulled his wrists up away from his back and forcing him to lean forward to avoid having his shoulders dislocate from the unforgiving angle. Trying to work the cloth out of his mouth, Obi-Wan pushed at it with his tongue, lips pulled back in a silent snarl.

“Knock him out.” The person on Obi-Wan’s right ordered, voice harsh and guttural. Obi-Wan turned his head, trying to see whoever it was but a hand grabbed him by his hair, wrenching his head back and to the side, exposing his neck. “Hurry up for fucks sake!”

A sharp prick in his neck had Obi-Wan flinching but he forced himself to remain still, knowing that if he struggled the needle that had just been jabbed into his neck could break and kill him.

Though perhaps dying would be a better option to kidnap…

Obi-Wan blinked, trying to remain conscious even as his limbs relaxed, weight entirely supported by the two men who grabbed him by his arms and began dragging him through the park, feet scuffing the ground as they dragged him.

 _‘Sorry Reeft,’_ Obi-Wan thought blurrily. _‘I shouldn’t have left the house.’_

The car park at the edge of the park was just as badly lit as the rest of the park, the only source of light for it a single lamp at the end of the path. The two men dragged Obi-Wan across the grass, avoiding the light from the lamp, up to a white van that was parked at the end of the car park, furthest from the single lamp. With the last few moments of consciousness, Obi-Wan felt clumsily for his phone in his back pocket, hoping that he was subtle enough to not alert the men to what he was doing.

Neither of them had bothered to search him, so Obi-Wan expected they’d do it in the van, likely tossing his phone out the window. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and waited, blinking fuzzily as he tried to stave off unconsciousness. One of them opened the van door, sliding it back as the other hauled Obi-Wan up into the van, dropping him on his side.

Rolling his head back, Obi-Wan watched as the two men climbed into the van, sliding the door shut and one of them tapped the shoulder of whoever was behind the wheel. As the engine started, Obi-Wan shuffled back until he touched the side of the van, feeling around clumsily with his fingers.

There!

A bag of some sort that had been tossed haphazardly into the van. Obi-Wan pulled at it with his fingers, blinking back the haze of unconsciousness that was making it harder and harder to remain alert. One of the men turned back towards Obi-Wan, kneeling on the bed of the van, and just as he reached out and grabbed Obi-Wan’s shoulder, Obi-Wan slid his phone into the bag.

“He’s still awake,” the man said, pulling Obi-Wan towards him and rolled him onto his back. “Tough fucker.”

“Not for long.” The driver commented, glancing at them through the rearview mirror. “Boss said it’d knock him out eventually.”

Obi-Wan blinked, head dropping to the side, cheek resting against the cold bed of the van. His eyes slid shut and Obi-Wan found he didn’t have the strength to keep them open. His entire body was lax, unresponsive to his commands.

“He’s out.” Obi-Wan heard the man beside him say and then darkness took him.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Reeft smiled at his laptop, thinking of how his mother had congratulated him on his hard work, his father smiling and nodding his approval. His parents meant the world to him and Reeft always enjoyed speaking with them, especially when he was stressed. His mother always seemed to know when he was having a bad day.

That she had noticed how tense he was while being half a world away both reassured and worried him. Everything that had happened in the past few weeks, the thing with Obi-Wan and that Palpatine guy… his mother didn’t know any details – Reeft refused to betray Obi-Wan’s trust like that – but her advice had made him wonder.

_“You may think you’re helping your friend Reeft,” his mother said, staring at him with large, knowing eyes. “But if you all keep watching him the way you are, giving him no chance to breathe, he’s probably going to do something stupid just to get some time to himself.”_

_“Obi-Wan’s not that stupid though mama,” Reeft said, shaking his head, frowning when his mother sighed._

_“We’re all that stupid darling, especially when we’re stressed about something and feeling trapped.” Reeft stared at his mother. She was right. Damn._

_“What do we do then?” Reeft asked, feeling helpless and frustrated. His mother smiled at him._

_“Give him some time to himself,” she said simply. “Not too long if you’re really worried about him, but even twenty minutes to yourself can help.”_

Reeft sighed, quitting skype and placing his laptop on his bed, before standing up and stretching. His back cracked audibly and Reeft let out a relieved breath.

Reeft made his way to his door, phone in his hand as he texted Garen, letting him know he’d finished his call to his parents. The reply from Garen was as subtle as ever.

_Did you tell them I’m carrying our love child?_

Reeft grinned.

_Not yet no._

_They’ll be heartbroken to not know yet._

_Only that’ll it’ll have your DNA turning it into a lunatic._

_Ouch._

_Love you._

_Love you too. Check on Obi-Wan._

_Doing it now, stop worrying._

Reeft slid his phone into his pocket, amused at his boyfriend. Obi-Wan’s door was shut and Reeft knocked on it lightly. “Obi-Wan?”

There was no reply.

 _‘Maybe he’s asleep,’_ Reeft thought, carefully opening the door and peeking into the room. _‘Shit.’_

Obi-Wan’s bed was empty, desk lamp bathing the room in light and clearly showing that Obi-Wan wasn’t in residence.

 _‘Oh let him be downstairs.’_ Reeft hurried down the stairs, opening the door to the front room and stared in dismay at the dark room. _‘Oh shit.’_

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Reeft dialled Obi-Wan’s number, pacing in the front room as the phone rang. And rang. And-

 _“You’ve reached me, I’m not here right now. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”_ The sound of Obi-Wan’s recorded message made Reeft curse.

“Obi-Wan, please tell me you’re okay and not missing. Fuck! Please call me!” Reeft said, voice strained. He hung up, dialling Garen immediately and near screamed down the phone when his boyfriend answered. “Obi-Wan’s not in the house!”

 _“Wait- what?”_ Garen’s voice was muffled. _“What do you mean he’s not in the house?”_

“Exactly what I said. He was in his room. My parents called, and now he’s not!” Reeft replied, voice rising as he grabbed his hair with a hand. “What do I do Garen? Oh God, what do I do?”

 _“Stay in the house. Call Jinn and Bant.”_ Garen ordered. The sound of boxes being knocked into, or dropped, echoed down the line. _“I’m going to tell my manager there’s been an emergency and I’ve got to go. I’ll be home in twenty.”_

“O-okay.” Reeft took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

 _“Don’t be, Obi-Wan’s a shit and when we find him I’m going to throttle him for pulling this shit,”_ Garen said soothingly down the phone. _“Call the others. I’ll be home soon. I love you.”_

“Love you too,” Reeft murmured, ending the call and dropping down onto the sofa. “Fuck.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Qui-Gon knocked on the door, relieved that it took Reeft only moments to open it and usher him inside.

“How long has he been missing?” Qui-Gon asked, cutting straight to the case. Reeft had been panicked on the phone, not able to spare the time to answer the questions Qui-Gon had.

“About an hour, maybe two,” Reeft answered. He sat down on the sofa, wringing his hands together. “I was skyping my parents and he must have left while I was talking to them.”

“Okay,” Qui-Gon said, nodding thoughtfully. “You said you tried to call him?” He asked, moving to sit in the armchair near the door.

“Yeah.” Reeft nodded. “It rang but went to voicemail.”

“Then his phone hasn’t been destroyed or turned off,” Qui-Gon murmured, almost to himself as he stared at the coffee table. Reeft looked at him curiously.

“But they would have tossed his phone wouldn’t they?” Reeft asked. “It’s what usually happens in kidnap cases. At least, that’s what my uncle says.” Reeft added, shifting uncomfortably when Qui-Gon looked at him.

Qui-Gon nodded. “Yes, but there’s a chance Obi-Wan hid his phone, or that his kidnappers didn’t bother looking for it.” Qui-Gon explained, pulling out his phone. “If there’s a chance that Obi-Wan is in the same place as his phone, we might be able to find him.”

“And do what?” Reeft exclaimed. “We can’t go charging in to save him!” Qui-Gon stared at Reeft. “I research Palpatine okay. The guy was head of an international smuggling ring with connections to organised crime in almost all of Europe! His connections had connections! There’s no way we can do anything to help Obi-Wan.”

Reeft’s shoulders slumped as he stared at his hands, eyes watering. “This is my fault,” he whispered. “I should have been watching him.”

“This is no one’s fault Reeft,” Qui-Gon said firmly. “Obi-Wan knew he was in danger. He left the house anyway. He used your call to your parents as an opportunity. That is on Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon sighed. “That he may now be in danger is neither his nor your fault however. That is the fault of Palpatine and his obsession with Obi-Wan.”

“My mother was right,” Reeft said, looking up at Qui-Gon. “We’ve been smothering him for weeks, not giving him a moment to be alone. And now he’s in danger because this was the first chance he had to be alone without one of us breathing down his neck.”

Qui-Gon sighed, and looked down at his phone. He typed out a quick message, sending it as Reeft continued to speak.

“Obi-Wan never told us much about Palpatine but, when we first became friends he told us about a relationship he had that didn’t end well.” Reeft looked down at his hands. “The fact that Obi-Wan never sits in the middle of a booth, always makes sure he’s near the door, and doesn’t like being in small spaces like tents… we should have realised he wouldn’t be happy with us all but suffocating him with our presence twenty-four-seven. Especially after what he told us about Palpatine and… how he was with him.”

Qui-Gon grimaced, realising that Reeft was right. “No… I imagine that Palpatine’s treatment of him has made Obi-Wan doubly reluctant to be controlled.”

“And what did we go and do? We went and did the _same damned thing_ Palpatine did!” Reeft exclaimed, letting out a broken sob. “Maybe we did it with different intentions but, control is control and we basically trapped him just like Palpatine did!”

“No,” Qui-Gon said forcefully. “Our actions come from our love for Obi-Wan, not our need to control or possess him.” Qui-Gon slid of the armchair, moving to sit beside Reeft. “Palpatine desired to control Obi-Wan with no thought to the effect his actions had upon Obi-Wan. We did not.”

Qui-Gon reached out and placed a hand on Reeft’s shoulder, forcing Reeft to look at him. “We are nothing like Palpatine.” Qui-Gon’s voice was low, words firm and yielding no room for argument. They were the words of a man wholly convinced that they were not monsters, that though their actions may have been wrong in the end, they were misguided not malicious in their origins.

And that made a world of difference in the end.

The front door opened, Garen and Bant arriving home at the same time. They barrelled through into the front room, Garen instantly going to Reeft’s side and crushing him in a hug, Bant coming to stand by Qui-Gon who watched the two men cling to each other.

Reeft was mumbling into Garen’s shoulder, apologising over and over, while Garen held him and told him it was okay, it wasn’t his fault, shit happens.

Qui-Gon looked at Bant who glanced at him, looking away from her friends. “I’ve contacted a friend, she’s going to call me soon,” Qui-Gon said softly and Bant nodded.

“What is she going to do?” Bant asked as Garen let go of Reeft and looked at them.

“She’s going to search for Obi-Wan’s phone,” Qui-Gon replied, glancing at Reeft. “If there’s a chance Obi-Wan’s phone is with him we may be able to find him.”

“And do what?” Garen asked, staring at Qui-Gon with a hard look on his face. “If Palpatine’s got the police on his side, then calling them could put Obi-Wan in more danger. If we don’t then that means we have to deal with it ourselves and, honestly, I don’t think we’re a match for an organised crime ring.”

Qui-Gon nodded. “No, you’re not.” He glanced down at his phone when it buzzed. “But the chances that every member of the police force are in Palpatine’s pocket is unlikely. If I can be near to where Obi-Wan’s phone is when I call them, then I can watch the place and make sure they’re not tipped off.”

“What do you mean by ‘I’ Jinn?” Garen asked, voice hard.

“Exactly what I mean,” Qui-Gon replied calmly. “If things go wrong, having any of you with me then and there could put you in danger or give Palpatine additional targets to use against Obi-Wan.”

“Palpatine is a control-freak,” Bant said quietly. “His need to control and dominate is almost as strong as his narcissism. If anything, his ability to gain influence over others, to control them and have them do his bidding, is an extension of his narcissistic personality. If we’re caught by him, he’ll use us to force Obi-Wan to obey him – and we all know Obi-Wan won’t risk us being harmed. If we keep our distance, act as back up, we can be ready to help if we’re needed without introducing more unknown variables into the situation.”

Qui-Gon looked at her, surprised and proud of her ability to recognise that she, Garen and Reeft would be in more danger than Qui-Gon. He at least had age and experience. While he had no doubt Garen was fully capable of defending himself, Obi-Wan had mentioned that neither Bant nor Reeft enjoyed martial arts and knew only basic self-defence. It would be enough to handle the average person on the street, but Qui-Gon doubted Palpatine hired an incompetent workforce for his organisation.

“So do we do exactly?” Reeft asked, calmer now that Garen was with him.

“Stay at the house, I’ll get my friend to contact you if things end well. If they don’t, then you can come running,” Qui-Gon said. “She won’t be directly involved with anything so runs the least risk of being harmed. The fewer people directly involved the less chance Palpatine has of using us against Obi-Wan, and the less likely we are to be noticed or caught.”

“And you’re friend will contact us how?” Bant asked, look on her face indecipherable.

“Tahl is adept at many computer-related things, one of those is playing with phone signals.” Qui-Gon answered, giving them a slight smile. “Among other things.”

“And how is she so good at playing with _things_?” Garen asked, scepticism clear to see on his face.

“Tahl was MIT before she and her husband ended up in an accident that left her blind and him with a damaged leg,” Qui-Gon answered, tilting his head. “She’s more than capable of helping us out now.”

Bant looked at Qui-Gon, an indecipherable look on her face. “Okay.” She nodded. “If your friend sends us a message, we’ll call the police when we’re near to where Obi-Wan’s phone is. Your friend can help make sure no one tips Palpatine off early.”

“Can she do that from wherever she is?” Garen asked.

“Considering that she lives in the city? Yes, yes she can,” Qui-Gon answered, amused despite himself. “I’m going to pick her up before heading for wherever Obi-Wan’s phone is.”

“I’m slightly concerned that you’re actually part of the mafia or something Jinn,” Garen said, giving him a wary look and Qui-Gon smirked.

“They wouldn’t have me I assure you.” Qui-Gon stood up. “I’ve just made a lot of interesting friends over the years Garen. That’s all.”

“Interesting is one way of putting it,” Garen mumbled, watching Qui-Gon leave the house.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Obi-Wan groaned, eyes fluttering open. Rolling onto his side, he breathed through his nose, trying to stave off the urge to vomit. He blinked, frowning in confusion as his mind registered that he was lying on a bed.

A large, unfamiliar bed.

The deep red bedding felt like satin, or maybe silk, and was cool against his face, a pleasant counter to the heat flowing beneath his skin. Sluggishly Obi-Wan raised a hand to his face, blinking in confusion when his arm jerked to a halt.

Rolling onto his back, Obi-Wan looked at his arm, blinking and trying to process what he was seeing.

A restraint.

Around his wrist.

The type of restraint he’d wore at the hospital six years ago after being forcibly sedated because, oh yeah, he’d been fucking held against his will for days by a fucking lunatic.

Pulling with his other arm, Obi-Wan met the same resistance and looked down at his feet.

More restraints.

He was tied to the bed, restraints running down beneath the mattress, with enough slack that he could roll onto his side but not reach the buckles or undo them with his hands.

“I didn’t think they would have given you quite so large a dose.”

Obi-Wan’s head snapped up, heart beating wildly. He stared in horror, body frozen for a long moment before he began scrambling backwards, shoulders hitting the headboard with an audible _thump_. The restraints stopped him from moving any further, legs stretched out fully, arms tensed and pulling against the restraints trapping him.

“Really Obi-Wan.” Palpatine tilted his head in amusement, lightly placing the glass in his hand on the side table beside his chair. “There’s no need to panic.”

“Easy for you to say,” Obi-Wan spat, voice trembling at he stared at Palpatine across the room, hands clenched into fists. “You’re not the one tied up.”

“Hmm, true.” Palpatine agreed, rising smoothly, arching an eyebrow when Obi-Wan jerked against his restraints again. “Though I’ll confess, I’ve always enjoyed seeing you as you are right now.”

Obi-Wan shivered, repulsed and terrified. Anger was starting to brew in his gut but it was slow and weak, unable to overcome the fear churning inside him.

“You also enjoy drugging unsuspecting individuals and raping them so perhaps you should get help for your proclivities,” Obi-Wan said, giving Palpatine a defiant look. “I’m sure therapy would be good for you.”

Palpatine’s frame tensed, his eyes sparking with sudden anger that, ironically enough, settled Obi-Wan’s terror and calmed him. The spark disappeared, replaced with a cold calculating look that instantly made Obi-Wan wary.

“Perhaps you can provide me with some recommendations Obi-Wan?” Palpatine asked coyly, walking towards the bed, watching as Obi-Wan tensed up further with every step he took. Standing beside the bed, Palpatine stared down at Obi-Wan, a slight smile on his face. “After all, you have had the honour of making several intimate acquaintances in the field of therapy haven’t you.”

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw, refusing to answer Palpatine, eyes burning with anger and fear and indignance at Palpatine’s words.

Palpatine chuckled, voice raspier than Obi-Wan remembered and it was startling to him. Palpatine had aged much more than six years.

 _‘I hope prison was a fucking nightmare for him,’_ Obi-Wan thought vindictively, looking up at Palpatine who watched him with a look on his face that Obi-Wan disliked.

“I believe you were, what was the phrase, ah yes ‘intensely traumatised by the ordeal of being forced for several months to live within a high-risk environment with no conceivable support system available.’” Palpatine tilted his head, smiling down beneficently at Obi-Wan, as though he thought he was helping him, or doing anything for any other reason than to fuck with him.

Obi-Wan’s lip twitched, a micro-second of intense loathing flickering across his face before his features smoothed out, the only way to tell he was affected by Palpatine’s words was the burning rage and hate in his eyes.

“They make it sound as though you were an innocent victim,” Palpatine said, sitting on the bed beside Obi-Wan who twitched, pulling against the restraints that made it impossible to move away from Palpatine. “We both know that’s not quite accurate though is it?”

“You drugged and raped me. Then kidnapped me and locked me in a room for days, again raping me, before you were arrested,” Obi-Wan replied, voice flat. He stared resolutely ahead, refusing to look at Palpatine. It would irritate him Obi-Wan knew, but he refused to play into Palpatine’s delusion or games.

 _‘I’m not going to let him break me,’_ Obi-Wan thought stubbornly, flinching when a hand settled on his thigh, fingers rubbing gentle circles into his skin.

At least he was still clothed save for his shoes.

“You never said no,” Palpatine said softly, leaning down towards Obi-Wan’s head, his breath heavy and like noxious gas across Obi-Wan’s skin.

Obi-Wan jerked his head away, gaze snapping onto Palpatine, anger and fury and so much emotion burning away inside him. “I say no plenty of times! You didn’t care what I wanted!” Obi-Wan near shouted, snarling as he glared at Palpatine. “You’re sick in the head Palpatine!”

Palpatine’s hand lashed out and Obi-Wan’s head snapped back, head slamming into the headboard and making him see stars. “You’ve become very defiant Obi-Wan,” Palpatine commented calmly, hand wrapping around Obi-Wan’s neck. “I’ll confess; I find it amusing.”

The hand around Obi-Wan’s neck tightened, pressing down against his throat and making Obi-Wan gasp for air. He thrashed in the bed, trying to dislodge Palpatine’s hand, arms pulling uselessly against the restraints; legs kicking out, brought up short by the restraints wrapped around his ankles.

“But, unless you would like for me to punish you Obi-Wan,” Palpatine paused, loosening his hold on Obi-Wan’s throat enough for him to draw in a ragged gasp. “You will cease this behaviour and appreciate what I am offering you.”

Obi-Wan stared at Palpatine, chest heaving, hands clenched, arms spasming against the restraints. His eyes were wide, panicked and angry, and Palpatine pressed down on his throat again in warning.

Obi-Wan glared, refusing to submit and Palpatine sighed, releasing his hold on Obi-Wan’s throat suddenly.

Obi-Wan coughed, body shaking as he drew in deep breaths, eyes shut in pained relief. His chest burned. He felt the bed shift, Palpatine’s weight disappearing and Obi-Wan forced his eyes open, watching Palpatine move about the room.

“It is unfortunate Obi-Wan,” Palpatine said, back to Obi-Wan, head angled down. His hands were in front of him and Obi-Wan heard the gentle clink of glass. “I had hoped you would be more willing to entertain my offer.”

“You-” Obi-Wan coughed, throat aching. “You didn’t give me one.” He managed to say, wincing as his voice cracked.

“I sent my regards Obi-Wan,” Palpatine said, turning around, a glass of clear liquid in his hand. He stared at Obi-Wan. “Your defiance is clear enough answer that you have rejected my offer.”

Palpatine walked towards the bed, ignoring the way Obi-Wan struggled against the restraints. He knelt down on the bed, throwing a leg over Obi-Wan’s waist, using his weight to prevent Obi-Wan from bucking him off.

“Get off me!” Obi-Wan howled, writhing beneath Palpatine who calmly ignored him, reaching out and gripping Obi-Wan’s hair in a tight fist, forcing his head into stillness. “Get the fuck-”

Palpatine forced the glass in his other hand against Obi-Wan’s lips. Obi-Wan forced his mouth shut, refusing to open it even as Palpatine twisted the hand in his hair, making him wince in pain.

Palpatine glared at Obi-Wan, irritation on his face. With a smirk, the older man ground down against Obi-Wan’s crotch making Obi-Wan exhale forcefully, arms pulling against the restraints so much he hands were starting to go numb. Palpatine ground down on him again, pulling on Obi-Wan’s hair sharply, wrenching his head back as he did.

Obi-Wan let out a gasp of pain, instantly realising his mistake when the glass was forced between his slightly parted lips, the liquid pouring into his mouth. He tried to spit it out but Palpatine let go of his hair and pressed his hand over Obi-Wan’s mouth, forcing his head against the headboard. Obi-Wan cried out in protest, thrashing, hands tingling with numbness.

Palpatine leaned forward slightly, weight shifting and settling across Obi-Wan’s stomach as he deposited the mostly empty glass on the table by the bed before leaning back again. With his free hand Palpatine reached out and pinched Obi-Wan’s nose shut, preventing him from drawing in any air while his mouth was still full of the liquid from the glass.

 _‘Fuck no no no!’_ Obi-Wan thought desperately, trying to free his head from Palpatine’s grip. _‘Not again! No!’_

Eventually Obi-Wan was forced to swallow, his eyes wide with horror and Palpatine let go of his nose, removing his hand from Obi-Wan’s mouth in the same moment. Obi-Wan coughed, shaking with revulsion and fear.

“W-what did you give me?” Obi-Wan coughed, chest heaving, he stared up at Palpatine who knelt over him, face unreadable.

“I’m sure you’ll recognise the effect soon enough,” Palpatine said cryptically, rolling his hips and making Obi-Wan stifle a moan at the friction on his cock. “Though perhaps sooner judging by your reaction.”

Obi-Wan blinked, feeling sweat break out on his forehead. He stared at Palpatine, eyes wide, a slow heat unfurling in his stomach and spreading through his body. Breathing heavily, Obi-Wan tried to focus on not reacting to the weight across his waist.

“Get off me,” Obi-Wan said, chest heaving, body held as still as he could make it. Palpatine stared down at him, amused and Obi-Wan’s arm twitched, hand gripping the cord attached to the restraint around his wrist.

“Oh but Obi-Wan,” Palpatine said, voice mocking. “I don’t think you really want me to.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, ready to tell Palpatine to fuck off out a window, and Palpatine ground down on him, hand pressing down on Obi-Wan’s chest. Obi-Wan shuddered, hissing out a moan, eyes fluttering shut as he clenched his jaw. Palpatine chuckled over him.

“No,” Palpatine said darkly, voice husky and heavy with desire. “I don’t think you do.”

“G-get off m-me!” Obi-Wan stuttered, trying to calm himself even as Palpatine rolled his hips and he arched up against him. “Get off!” Obi-Wan cried, throwing his head back, anger and fear in his voice as he tried to buck Palpatine off him, unable to gain any purchase with his legs restrained. He groaned at the friction as he writhed beneath Palpatine, trying to ignore the burning need building in his gut.

Palpatine’s hand ran along Obi-Wan’s chest, slipping beneath the hem of his shirt and Obi-Wan hissed at the feel of cool flesh against his burning skin.

 _‘This can’t be happening.’_ Obi-Wan thrashed, shoulders shaking, hands gripping the cords of the restraints around his wrists, arms tensed to the point of pain, legs pulling against the restraints around his ankles _. ‘This isn’t happening.’_

“You still have the scars I gave you,” Palpatine murmured, fingers skimming lightly over the raised skin on Obi-Wan’s chest, scar tissue that ran in short strokes, no more than three inches in length, dotted his chest and stomach. “I shall enjoy giving you more.”

Fingers pinched a nipple and Obi-Wan gasped, skin burning and prickling like a thousand needles were stabbing him repeatedly. “D-don’t,” he gasped, eyes squeezed shut, brow furrowed. “Stop!”

“Oh Obi-Wan,” Palpatine tutted, other hand pulling at his belt, hips rolling over and over making Obi-Wan moan, writhing at the sensation. “You know you don’t want me to stop.”

The sound of knocking caused Palpatine to halt his movements, making Obi-Wan equal parts relieved and aching. _‘I don’t want this,’_ Obi-Wan thought, trying to ignore the way his body burned with need. _‘It’s the drug. It’s whatever he’s fucking given me the bastard!’_

“What is it?” Palpatine called out, voice sharp. The door opened a sliver, someone on the other side rightfully wary of angering Palpatine.

“We have a problem sir,” the person said, voice cautious.

Palpatine sighed, looking down at Obi-Wan, rocking his hips slightly and making Obi-Wan stifle a moan at the friction on his cock, hard and aching in his trousers. “Which is?”

“It seems someone is interfering with our system,” the man answered. Palpatine’s eyes narrowed.

“Very well.” Palpatine leaned down, face scant centimetres from Obi-Wan’s. “I’ll return soon Obi-Wan.” Palpatine promised, eyes burning. “I daresay you will be begging for me by then.”

“N-Never,” Obi-Wan whispered, voice weak. Sweat plastered his hair to his head. Palpatine stared at him. “Never.”

“We shall see,” Palpatine said. He smiled suddenly, hand caressing Obi-Wan’s sweat-soaked face. Suddenly the light touch changed, fingers pressing into his jaw painfully, forcing his head still when he tried to shake Palpatine’s hand off.

Palpatine sealed his lips over Obi-Wan’s, tongue pressing against Obi-Wan’s lips, digging through them, parting them with brute force. Obi-Wan squirmed, pressing his lips tightly together, not giving any ground even as Palpatine tried to force his lips open.

Palpatine rolled his hips, other hand grazing Obi-Wan’s neck, nails scratching long red lines down the length of his neck, and Obi-Wan gasped, mouth opening against his will. He half-moaned, half-cried out in disgust as Palpatine’s tongue plunged into his mouth, tasting and exploring.

It felt like it lasted years but only seconds passed before Palpatine pulled away, panting heavily as he stared down at Obi-Wan who coughed and grimaced in disgust, pupils blown, face flushed, hair matted.

“You aren be mine again Obi-Wan,” Palpatine promised, eyes dark. “Qui-Gon Jinn will not save you.”

Obi-Wan’s heart stuttered in his chest, eyes widening in horror. Palpatine laughed. “Oh yes Obi-Wan. I know about your little… crush on the man.” Palpatine stopped laughing, face becoming cold, anger burning in his eyes as he hissed. “I’ll destroy him in front of you if you don’t obey me Obi-Wan. I promise you that.”

Palpatine climbed off the bed, walked to the door, hand resting on the handle before he turned and fixed Obi-Wan with a heavy gaze. “Consider this a chance to save Qui-Gon Jinn from me Obi-Wan.” Palpatine stared at Obi-Wan, gaze knowing. “You know I keep my word.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, fear burning through him as ferociously as the need and desire that made his body tremble. _‘Oh God Qui,’_ Obi-Wan thought helplessly. A tear slipped down his face. _‘Oh God… I’m sorry.’_

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Qui-Gon knelt next to Tahl, watching as her hands skimmed over her brail keyboard, the screen useless to her but useful for Qui-Gon to track what she was doing.

“Is this going to work?” Qui-Gon asked finally, unable to remain silent any longer as Tahl continued working.

“It already is,” Tahl replied, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “Just because _you_ can’t understand what I’m doing, doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone on their end who doesn’t.” She added, grinning when Qui-Gon huffed.

“Then I should call the police now?” He questioned, glancing down at the phone in his hand. “I imagine it’ll take them for some time to arrive.”

“You can call them if you like,” Tahl said, frowning. “But it’s not going to matter really.”

“Why?” Qui-Gon looked at her, frowning.

“Because they’re doing something. I can’t see the camera’s but there’s something in the system that’s… questionable.” Tahl tapped a few more keys and Qui-Gon watched as the screen flickered and changed, showing four camera feeds. “Their system is good, but haphazard. I don’t think this is a permanent set up. Just a stopping point.”

“So they’re going to be moving on,” Qui-Gon guessed, watching the screen, cataloguing the movements of the men in the building. “They look to be carrying… I think they’re barrels? I can’t tell for sure.”

“Well whatever they’re doing, calling the police and telling them you know where a missing person – who you haven’t reported missing by the way – is isn’t going to do anything.” Tahl pointed out. “Twenty-four hours before a missing person’s report can be filed. The only way you’re going to get police out here is if you call them and report something suspicious in the building that’ll get a fast response.”

“Like what?”

“Like… the sound of someone screaming and the sound of fighting,” Tahl answered, looking at Qui-Gon, her eyes sightless but the way she looked at him was as condescending as ever. Qui-Gon found it reassuring. “Actually, give me the phone.” She held out a hand expectedly.

Qui-Gon frowned. “Why?”

Tahl rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Because,” she said slowly. “I’m a woman, and blind. I call and tell them that, sound panicked and afraid, they’ll be out here quicker than you can cross the street.”

“Fair enough.” Qui-Gon handed her the phone, amused at the way she navigated his phone with practiced ease. He still had trouble using the damned things with the size of his hands so seeing anyone use it with ease amazed him and annoyed him in equal measure. Obi-Wan was the same with it.

Qui-Gon’s heart ached as he thought of Obi-Wan. ‘ _Please be okay_ ,’ he thought, staring out the front of the van at the building they were parked near to. It was old, with boarded up windows and fire doors that had been chained shut.

If the police didn’t arrive in time, Qui-Gon was perfectly ready and willing to go running in there to find him. He wouldn’t leave Obi-Wan at Palpatine’s mercy. Not after the story Obi-Wan had shared with them.

And especially not after the way the younger man had ended up nestled beneath Qui-Gon’s breast, burrowed so deep in his heart Qui-Gon wondered if he hadn’t always been there.

Maybe he had been.

When Qui-Gon had been in his early twenties he’d gotten it into his head to go travelling around the world. Ironically enough, he’d ended up in China not long before the Tiananmen Square protests in 1989. While he’d been there however, he had come across the story of the Red String of Fate.

It had resonated with him for reason and Qui-Gon wondered if, maybe, he and Obi-Wan had been fated to meet long ago, before they had ever existed, bound together in a way far beyond human understand. The will of Yuè Lǎo deciding their fate for them.

No matter what had brought them together, Qui-Gon couldn’t imagine his life without Obi-Wan in it.

So he would risk his own for the chance to share it with Obi-Wan.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Obi-Wan moaned, hips thrusting as he tried to escape the burning in his skin, the need boiling up and overwhelming him. He needed to get out, to escape. He needed to get to Qui-Gon. He needed… he needed…

He needed to come so fucking much it _hurt_.

Obi-Wan forced his eyes open, turning his head and staring at the restraint around his wrist. He couldn’t reach it with his other hand, there wasn’t enough slack but maybe…

Twisting, Obi-Wan pulled his wrist as close to the centre of the bed as he could, his other arm straining as he pulled against the restraint. He got about a third of the way towards the centre before the cord was pulled taught.

Obi-Wan stared at it, wondering if he could- it might be possible-

Rolling onto his side, Obi-Wan leaned as close as he could towards his arm, head at an awkward angle and he grunted with pain as his shoulders began to throb at the strange position he had forced himself into. Stretching his neck, Obi-Wan bit down on the restraint around his wrist, fierce pleasure warring with the drug-fuelled desire that made him want to writhe on the bed, searching for friction.

Using his teeth and tongue, Obi-Wan diligently worked the buckle of the restraint, more than thankful that his time in the psych ward six years ago had taught him a few tricks _. ‘Bet they never thought I’d need to do this again,’_ he thought wryly, managing to undo the buckle, pulling his hand free.

For all that Palpatine knew about his time there, about his private therapy sessions… he didn’t know Obi-Wan could do this. _‘He doesn’t know me.’_

Obi-Wan sat up, undoing the other restraints, scrambling off the bed quickly. _‘He doesn’t control me.’_

He looked around the room, taking in the fact that there was no window, only one door, the chair Palpatine had been sat in, the table next to it, and the one by the bed. There was nothing else. The floor was solid concrete, the walls mortar-covered brick, bits of it chipped and flaking.

 _‘I’m in an old building then,’_ Obi-Wan thought as he moved towards the door, stopping suddenly as the friction of moving made his cock twitch. He moaned. _‘Fuck.’_

Whatever Palpatine gave him… it would be impossible for him to escape with it in his system. Not unless he…

“Karma hates me,” Obi-Wan muttered, shoving a hand into his jeans, past the band of his underwear and grasping his cock in his hand. He moaned. With his other hand he undid the button and zip of his jeans, pushing his underwear down his thighs.

Shuffling back and sitting on the bed with a grimace of distaste, Obi-Wan slid his hand along his cock, trying to bring himself off as quickly as possible, twisting his hand the way he liked, thumb rubbing over the slit of his cock.

He bit his lip, fighting off the urge to moan loudly, uncertain if there was anyone outside keeping watch. His breathing grew laboured as he fisted his cock, hips rocking, cock sliding into his hand with each thrust, fucking his hand and causing his body to tremble from the sensation.

He twisted his hand suddenly, grasping his cock tightly as he thrust into his hand and Obi-Wan threw his head back, mouth open in a silent cry as he came, body twitching and spasming.

He fell back, panting, staring up at the ceiling in a hazy daze, blinking. After a few moments, higher brain function returned and Obi-Wan forced himself to sit up, cock twitching, the drug Palpatine had forced him to drink still working. But he had some time, not much he guessed, but enough to try and get the fuck out of here.

Standing, Obi-Wan pulled his underwear and trousers up, not bothering to wipe himself clean: time was limited and he’d already wasted enough time making himself come. He needed to get away.

Pulling his belt out of the loops of his belt, Obi-Wan held the thick leather in one hand, wrapping it around his hand once. He crept up to the door, pressing his ear against it, listening. There was no sound outside but he couldn’t be certain.

Carefully, Obi-Wan gently turned the handle, opening the door a crack and peeking through the slim gap. There was a single person leaning against the wall next to the door, cigarette in his mouth, staring at the opposite wall.

_‘I can take him.’_

Knowing that he had only the element of surprise on his side, Obi-Wan took a steadying breath, pulling the door open slightly before wrapping the other end of the belt around his free hand, the leather supple and strong. It’d do.

Using his foot, Obi-Wan opened the door the rest of the way, fortunate that it didn’t creak or reveal his movements in any way to the man outside. He stepped forward, hesitating for a moment before he lunged.

The belt looped over the man’s head before Obi-Wan pulled it back, the belt slamming into the man’s neck and forcing him back into Obi-Wan. Quickly, before the man could do anything, Obi-Wan twisted his hands, criss-crossing them and pulled viciously, kicking at the back of the man’s knee as he did.

A gurgling sound, fingers scrabbling at the leather, and the man dropped onto one knee, his entire weight supported by the belt around his neck. His neck didn’t crack, and Obi-Wan wasted no time in dragging him into the room, dropping him on the bed. The man’s eyes were closed, body limp and Obi-Wan put a hand on his neck, checking for a pulse.

It was faint but there and Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t killed him. Dragging the man up the bed, Obi-Wan buckled the restraints around the man’s wrists, doing the same with his legs. He looked around for a moment, spotting a cloth on the chair Palpatine had been sitting in when he’d awoke. It looked like a handkerchief. ‘ _It’ll do_ ,’ Obi-Wan thought, snatching it up and balling it up in his hand. He stuffed it into the man’s mouth.

Stepping away from the bed Obi-Wan stared at the unconscious man for a long moment before making a decision. He undid the laces of the man’s boots, pulling them off his feet and Obi-Wan quickly pulled them on, doing up the laces tightly.

“Thanks,” Obi-Wan said, looking at the man in amusement. “Have a nice nap.”

He left the room, shutting the door behind him. Obi-Wan had no idea where he was, what the layout of the building was or if he was going to be able to even get out before Palpatine returned to the room. But he didn’t care.

He knew that he was in a basement, the state of the walls and lack of windows telling him that much. The bare bulb light above his head further confirmed his suspicions, as did the narrow corridor. Wherever he was, Obi-Wan doubted he needed to do much more than go up to the ground floor and find an exit.

 _‘Easy peasy,’_ Obi-Wan thought dryly, walking along the narrow corridor, alert for the sound of anyone coming nearby. If none of Palpatine’s people knew he what he looked like, Obi-Wan hoped he could pass by anyone who passed him, but he wasn’t going to rely on that.

He was going to find the nearest fucking exit and get as far away from Palpatine as possible.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

The building was busy, but Obi-Wan was fortunate that no one came near to him as he made his way up to the ground floor. There had been a moment where he thought he’d been busted at the stairs but fortunately the man walking down the stairs had turned off, entering a room just beside them and Obi-Wan had been able to leave the basement without coming across anyone.

He doubted his luck would hold for much longer. His instincts were screaming at him.

Obi-Wan frowned, recognising the basic design of the building he was in. It was the old theatre. Bant had once dragged him and Garen to a ‘ghost night’ where some international ghost hunting team had been holding a special episode or whatever. Obi-Wan hadn’t cared for it, Garen had screeched like a child when he’d been spooked by a fucking rat and Bant had loved it.

Obi-Wan felt a smile break out on his face. He knew the layout of the ground floor of the theatre. The nearest exit to him was no more than a few less than a hundred yards from him. Moving carefully, but with purpose, Obi-Wan crept through the halls and corridors of the theatre, ducking into rooms when he heard someone coming down the hall.

The third time he was forced to duck into a room, Obi-Wan was forced to stifle a moan, his cock achingly hard again _. ‘Fuck, did he give me Viagra or something?’_ Obi-Wan cursed. _‘He probably fucking did. Bastard.’_

Obi-Wan looked around the room, taking in the row of monitors at the far side, a chair set in front of a fold-out table with two laptops on it.

Frowning, Obi-Wan moved toward them, ignoring the way his cock ached in his jeans. Hopefully he could ignore the pressure and need to come again. Leaning forward slightly, Obi-Wan looked at the screens, recognising some of the coding on the first screen, the second showing a few feeds around the building.

None of them showed the basement level.

Obi-Wan breathed out a relieved breath. No one had seen him coming. That calmed him slightly and, with a glance at the door behind him, Obi-Wan slid into the chair, pulling the first laptop towards him.

He tapped away at the keys, easily slipping into the system. It was familiar to him and Obi-Wan realised with a surprised jolt that it was one of his. Oh God.

Obi-Wan had never told anyone, not the police, not his therapist. No one.

Palpatine had asked him once, before the night he drugged him, to design a system for him. One that he could use to keep track of his funds. He’d proclaimed that he was awful at handling his finances and needed all the help he could get.

Obi-Wan had blindly agreed, more than happy to help.

He felt sick, staring at the screen. This was his work. Palpatine was using Obi-Wan’s work to rebuild his empire.

“Fuck that,” Obi-Wan snarled, anger coursing through him. He glared at the screen. “No fucking way.”

Obi-Wan began typing furiously, line after line of code appearing in a new window; a new code that would utterly annihilate the one Obi-Wan had created six years ago. What he was going to do would make it impossible for Palpatine to rebuild what he’d had. It would leave a power vacuum that Palpatine’s incarceration hadn’t.

Obi-Wan smiled in grim satisfaction as he imagined the look on Palpatine’s face when he realised what Obi-Wan had done. Hopefully Obi-Wan would be long-gone before Palpatine figured it out, but if he was caught…

Obi-Wan was more than willing to die before Palpatine could use him to regain his power.

 _‘Money makes the world go round,’_ Obi-Wan thought, remembering what Maul had told him in his kitchen all those weeks ago. _‘Well I’m going to bring Palpatine’s world crashing down.’_

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

“That’s strange,” Tahl said, frowning. Qui-Gon looked at her.

“What’s strange?” Qui-Gon asked, wondering what had caught Tahl’s attention. They were waiting for the police to arrive, keeping an eye on the building they were parked nearby. Obi-Wan was inside somewhere.

“The system,” Tahl answered absently, her braille display telling her everything that Qui-Gon could see on the screen. Unfortunately, he barely understood it. “Someone is changing something.”

“Someone?” Qui-Gon looked at the screen, a burst of hopefulness in his chest. “Obi-Wan knows programming.” Qui-Gon said to Tahl, remembering that he hadn’t told her that when she had arrived at his café an hour ago.

“Might have been nice to know that before Qui-Gon,” Tahl muttered under her breath, doing something with her display and Qui-Gon watched as a string of code appeared on the screen, written by Tahl’s deft fingers. “If it’s him what will he recognise as being from you?”

“Pizza’s trump waffles,” Qui-Gon replied immediately and Tahl looked at him, confused. Qui-Gon smiled. “Obi-Wan has a hatred of potato waffles.” Qui-Gon said by way of explanation.

Tahl raised an eyebrow, shaking her head a little in amusement. “Okay. I’m not even going to ask for any more details.”

Qui-Gon grinned in amusement, feeling lighter. His motivation was no longer tempered by desperation, and he hope feverously that Obi-Wan indeed the one who was in Palpatine’s system right now.

It seemed like the kind of thing Obi-Wan would do.

“That’s an interesting response.” Tahl sounded amused and Qui-Gon looked at the screen, trying to figure out what ‘response’ Tahl had received.

It took him a moment but when he saw it he laughed out loud.

_Fine dining is for assholes._

“I like him already,” Tahl said, smiling.

“Tahl,” Qui-Gon said, laughter subsiding. “You’re going to love him.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Obi-Wan let out a relieved breath as he responded to the message sent to him. It was subtle, well done and Obi-Wan doubted anyone would notice it except for whoever it was aimed at: namely him. He smiled softly, unable to help himself as he replied.

It took a few seconds but another message appeared on the screen, Obi-Wan looked at it and realised, heart pounding, that Qui-Gon-

Qui-Gon was nearby.

‘I need to keep him away from Palpatine,’ Obi-Wan thought suddenly, staring at the screen with a determined look on his face. If Palpatine got his hands on Qui-Gon… Obi-Wan didn’t know what he’d do, and he honestly didn’t want to find out.

 _I’ll meet you out front in twenty_.

Obi-Wan sent the message, along with a large number of data direct to Qui-Gon and whoever he was working with. He didn’t question it, trusting that it was Qui-Gon on the other side.

Obi-Wan needed to figure out a way of making sure Palpatine didn’t get anywhere near Qui-Gon. He leaned back in the chair, trying to think of anything he could do. From what he could see in the security cameras, there was at least a dozen people in the building, each of them armed.

Obi-Wan couldn’t hope to take them all out, but maybe he wouldn’t have to…

There had been a room near the basement Obi-Wan had passed, it had been half full with barrels. Or oil drums. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what they were, but he had a feeling that they could prove useful.

Standing, Obi-Wan took a deep breath, curling forward slightly, hand pressed against the table. His cock ached. But it wasn’t as bad as it had been earlier. He hoped that whatever Palpatine had given him was wearing off.

 _‘I wonder where he is,’_ Obi-Wan thought, glancing at the second laptop. He tapped a few keys, cycling through the camera feeds, surprised when he came to one focused on the stage of the theatre. In the middle of the room stood Palpatine, three men stood in front of him, listening to him speak. _‘There you are you bastard.’_

Obi-Wan determined that he’d avoid the stage area, avoiding Palpatine entirely, and he quietly left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. The halls were empty, but the aged carpet on the floor muffled a lot of the sound his footsteps made. It was useful for Obi-Wan but a problem for him listening out for anyone heading towards him.

Fortunately, Obi-Wan made it to the room with the barrels without incident, the only time he came close to being discovered he’d ducked down another hall way, leaning against the wall with his head down, watching as the two men strode on past him.

The barrels were stacked in pairs, lining the edge of the room. In the centre were several jerry cans and Obi-Wan carefully opened one, grimacing in disgust as the sharp scent of petrol burned his nose. ‘ _Bingo_.’

Obi-Wan didn’t know if what he was going to do was the right thing. Didn’t know if it’d haunt him for years to come. What he did know was that Palpatine couldn’t leave this building alive.

Not if Obi-Wan wanted anyone he loved to be safe again.

The judicial system had already failed once, Obi-Wan refused to give Palpatine another chance to wriggle free and hunt him down again.

He tipped over the cans, making sure their contents covered the floor of the room, backing into the corridor to avoid the steadily group puddle of petrol. The sharp smell would attract attention soon enough, but Obi-Wan didn’t care about that. He searched his pockets, hoping that his things hadn’t been taken and-

He pulled out his lighter, staring at it.

What he was about to do could be the single-worst idea he’d ever had. But it was the only one he had that didn’t involve putting everyone he loved at risk.

Obi-Wan pulled at the hem of his shirt, tearing a strip of fabric. Kneeling down he dipped it in the petrol beginning to pool at the door. He held it over his lighter and, with a deep breath, lit it.

The cloth caught in a whoosh of flame, Obi-Wan threw it towards the pool of petrol, breaking out into a dead run as he did so. He did not want to be near that door when those barrels ignited.

He didn’t want to be in the damned building to be entirely honest.

As he reached the end of the corridor someone barrelled into him, slamming him against the wall with a surprised cry. Obi-Wan blinked back stars, staring at the man who had rammed into him. He recognised those eyes.

“Maul,” Obi-Wan breathed out, surprised. Maul grinned at him, anger and hate clear to see in his dark eyes.

“I told you I’d kill you Kenobi,” Maul said, forearm pressed against Obi-Wan’s throat. “I keep my word.”

A sudden explosion knocked them off their feet, the concussion blast stunning them both. Obi-Wan recovered first and he scrambled to his feet just as Maul began to rise onto one knee. Without hesitating, Obi-Wan kicked out, boot connecting solidly with Maul’s jaw and snapping his head to the side.

Obi-Wan watched as Maul slumped to the floor, unconscious, and he looked down the hall, the flames from the room with the barrels bright and crawling along the carpet. He looked down at Maul, hesitating. Someone shouted. Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder, seeing two men at the far of the corridor heading towards him.

Obi-Wan ran, straight through the flames erupting from the doorway, ducking his head, hands over his head protectively as he gritted his teeth against the heat. It seared his skin but he made it throw unharmed. The men following him weren’t so lucky.

Just as Obi-Wan reached the junction of the corridor a second blast caught him as he turned the corner, and his back hit the wall, head slamming into the wall hard enough that he tasted blood in his mouth. He moaned in pain, forcing himself away from the wall and continued heading for the exit he knew was nearby. The sound of panicked shouting, groaning wood and crumbling brick echoed in his head, combining into a cacophony of sound that made his head pound. Obi-Wan grimaced.

Concussion.

Probably.

He reached the end of the corridor, a large set of double doors in front of him. Fire exit.

Obi-Wan pushed on the emergency release, frowning in confusion when it didn’t open. He shoved at it, managing to get it to open slightly and he stared through the narrow opening. Shit.

It was chained shut on the outside.

Who _the_ _fuck_ thought that was a good fucking idea?

Obi-Wan shoved at the door, ramming it with his elbow. It was no use. He had to find another way out.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Qui-Gon blinked, staring at the building, wondering what Obi-Wan was going to do. He had a feeling it was going to be something he wouldn’t approve of. Not that it mattered. Obi-Wan was in there and he was outside.

Garen had called him a few minutes ago, cursing him and calling him for all-kinds. The fact that Qui-Gon had reminded him that Obi-Wan wouldn’t want his friends to put themselves in danger hadn’t gone down well with the younger man. Less so when Qui-Gon had hung up on him and refused to answer his subsequent calls.

The explosion, when it happened, surprised them both. Tahl’s eyes were wide, body shaking as the sound deafened her. Qui-Gon fared no better.

“What was that!” Tahl shouted, hand reaching out and grabbing Qui-Gon’s arm.

Qui-Gon looked at the building, eyes widening as he saw a tell-tale orange glow in one of the windows. “Some sort of explosion,” Qui-Gon said. “Are the cameras still working?”

Tahl let go of Qui-Gon’s arm, fingers trembling as she tapped away at her console. After a moment she nodded. “Most of them.”

Qui-Gon looked at the screen, staring at the feeds Tahl had accessed. He watched as several men stumbled to their feet. They all looked dazed and confused on the feed and Qui-Gon wondered what had happened.

“Did Obi-Wan do that?” Tahl asked quietly, looking at Qui-Gon.

“I think so.” Qui-Gon answered, glancing at the building.

“He’s still inside,” Tahl said, not even bothering to portray her words as a query. Qui-Gon grimaced.

“I think so.” He looked at the screen, torn as to what to do. Obi-Wan had told them twenty minutes. Qui-Gon had been willing to wait those twenty minutes, but that was before he knew that Obi-Wan was going to _blow up_ the fucking building!

 _‘What was he thinking?’_ Qui-Gon’s head snapped up, eyes wide with horror as a second explosion ripped through the building, several windows blowing out from the force. Flames licked through the open windows, feeding greedily on the air. _‘Oh no.’_

“Don’t go inside!” Tahl cried as Qui-Gon grasped the door to the van. He paused. “If Obi-Wan has a way out, you going in there will complicate his escape. Qui-Gon, don’t go inside.”

“And if he’s injured?” Qui-Gon asked, well-aware of what he’d do if that were the case.

“Pray he’s not,” Tahl replied, staring blankly at Qui-Gon. She gave him a slow nod. “Be careful Qui-Gon.”

“I will.” Qui-Gon didn’t bother smiling to reassure Tahl, he pressed a hand to her knee for a second before he opened the door and climbed out, slamming it shut behind him.

Qui-Gon turned on his heel and ran towards the building. He didn’t know much about it, the only information he had was from Tahl’s brief search for blueprints, but Qui-Gon had enough information to know where the main entrance was.

He just hoped it wasn’t blocked off. Or in flames.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Obi-Wan darted out of the corridor into the open stage area, bending over and hacking, eyes streaming. He wiped at his face with his sleeve, soot smeared across his face. This might not have been his smartest idea.

A plank of wood slammed into Obi-Wan’s back. He cried out, tumbling to the floor, managing to tuck and roll. He came up on one knee, using a hand to spin around and stare at whoever had attacked him.

Palpatine stood before him, a two-by-four in his hands, clothes singed, face streaked with soot. Obi-Wan found the sight viciously satisfying. The rage in Palpatine’s face was almost reassuring in way.

 _‘I hope you’re angry you fucking bastard.’_ Obi-Wan grinned, the sight of his defiance making Palpatine snarl at him, features twisting.

“What’s wrong? Don’t appreciate my attempt at redecorating?” Obi-Wan rasped, eyes bright.

Palpatine snarled. “I would have given you everything one day Obi-Wan! Anything you wanted: I would have given it to you!” The man shouted, features twisted in some mockery of grief. As though Palpatine had a right to mourn anything.

“All I _want_ is for you to leave me the fuck alone!” Obi-Wan roared, voice cracking and he coughed, stumbling back a step. Palpatine charged forward, taking advantage of Obi-Wan’s weakness.

The two-by-four slammed into Obi-Wan’s gut, driving the air out of him, and he dropped to the floor, hunching over, hands wrapped around his middle, trying to breath. Palpatine struck him with the plank across his back and Obi-Wan arched upward with a roar of pain. He fell back, rolling onto his side, eyes watering from the pain in his back and stomach.

Palpatine stood over Obi-Wan, eyes bright with rage.

“You belong to me Obi-Wan!” Palpatine roared, a manic grin on his face. “You’re going to die by my hand today!” Palpatine knelt down next to Obi-Wan, dropping the two-by-four on the ground with a clatter. He stared down at Obi-Wan.

“I promise you that my boy,” Palpatine whispered in Obi-Wan’s ear, reaching out and wrapping his hands around Obi-Wan’s neck, squeezing.

Obi-Wan’s fingers dug at Palpatine’s hands, trying to pry his hands from around his neck but it was useless. Obi-Wan was already weak from the smoke inhalation, the attack by Maul and getting a two-by-four to the stomach and back. The most he could do was scratch weakly at Palpatine’s hands.

He tried to pry Palpatine’s thumb from his throat, hoping he could twist it and break Palpatine’s grip around his throat, but black spots were dancing across his vision and his arms were growing heavy.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were wide, staring at Palpatine who knelt over him, pressing down on his throat, choking the life out of him. A shadow out of the corner of Obi-Wan’s eye caught his attention and Obi-Wan watched dumbly as another two-by-four swung out of nowhere, slamming into Palpatine’s head and sent him sprawling on the ground.

Obi-Wan coughed, rolling onto his side, curling up into a ball as he tried to breathe. Hands reached out, grabbing at him and Obi-Wan struggled, trying to fight, to escape, to-

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon’s voice perforated the fear in Obi-Wan’s mind, calming him and Obi-Wan ceased his struggles. “Obi-Wan we need to leave now!”

Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon pull him up, an arm wrapping around his waist, the other slinging his arm over Qui-Gon’s shoulders and grasping his wrist. He stumbled along with Qui-Gon blindly, uncertain where Qui-Gon was leading them.

All Obi-Wan knew was that it was aware from Palpatine who lay unconscious in the middle of the stage.

Obi-Wan hoped he died.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Tahl waited, listening sharply for the tread of Qui-Gon’s boots and his distinctive footfalls. When she heard them, the second set with him seemed off, almost as though they weren’t walking but stumbling, near being dragged.

 _‘I hope this Obi-Wan isn’t injured,’_ Tahl thought worriedly, the door to the van open and she heard Qui-Gon approach. “Qui-Gon?”

“We’re here Tahl.” Qui-Gon’s voice was tired, raspy and had the tell-tale croak of someone who had inhaled smoke.

The sound of someone being, helped into the back of the van caught Tahl’s attention and she listened attentively, reaching out a hand blindly, surprised when someone grasped it, holding tightly.

“Nice to meet you Obi-Wan,” Tahl said, feeling the callouses on Obi-Wan’s hand. They were subtle but there. They wouldn’t be obvious to anyone else, but Tahl recognised those callouses as from someone who had some martial arts training. She bore similar callouses on her own hands. “It would have been nice to meet you under better circumstances.”

“L-likewise.” Obi-Wan’s voice was weak, far raspier than Qui-Gon’s and she frowned in concern when she heard him hack out a cough. “Maybe next time we meet; you can show me a thing or two on the computer?”

Tahl smiled. “I’d love to Obi-Wan.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Driving away, Qui-Gon watched as a police car drove along the road, lights blaring. He didn’t change his speed, calm and secure. He trusted Tahl when she said there was no immediate surveillance on the road they’d parked on, and he’d been wise enough to keep his and Obi-Wan’s heads down as they’d stumbled across the road from the theatre.

Qui-Gon doubted they’d be questioned, nothing beyond the basic routine questions since he highly expected Palpatine’s remains would be found in the wreckage of the theatre. Whether or not they’d accuse Obi-Wan of anything… well that remained to be seen.

 _‘And I am such a cynic to assume the police would automatically see Obi-Wan as a suspect,’_ Qui-Gon thought, sighing, hands flexing around the steering wheel. He glanced at the rearview mirror, Obi-Wan curled up, head in Tahl’s lap. She was running a hand through his hair, humming softly. _‘No. I’m not.’_

Qui-Gon’s heart constricted painfully at the sight.

“Have you told Micah you’re on your way?” Qui-Gon asked, focusing back on the road, his voice quiet in deference to Obi-Wan, but still loud enough for Tahl to hear.

“Yes. He’s waiting,” Tahl answered softly, never stopping her gentle movements. She began humming again, a soft melody that Qui-Gon recognised as one of the tunes he remembered Tahl had once hummed-

“How have you both been?” Qui-Gon glanced at her, reading her face before his friend was able to hide her emotions. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to see you as much as I’d like.”

“It’s fine Qui-Gon,” Tahl shook her head, sighing. “Truthfully, I don’t think either of us would have appreciated you being around as much as you’d like.” She smiled slightly. “We might love you Qui, but your way of caring is to try and smother with love and affection. Sometimes a person needs room to breathe.”

Qui-Gon winced, grip on the steering wheel tightening.

Tahl, showing that she still could read him easily even without her sight sighed. “What happened tonight isn’t your fault Qui,” she said softly. “Sometimes bad things happen regardless of our best intentions. You’re both alive and in one piece. That’s more than most could say in similar situations.”

“I was so afraid Tahl,” Qui-Gon confessed, voice a near whisper, almost impossible to hear over the engine, but Tahl heard him. “I thought he was- I thought- Palpatine was choking him. Killing him. And I couldn’t think. I just- I acted.”

“You did what you had to do for someone you care about Qui-Gon, no one can judge you for that,” Tahl said gently. “You love him. Of course you’d fight for him.”

“I might have killed Palpatine,” Qui-Gon said. “Is that what love drives us to do? Is that the right thing to do when someone I love is in danger? Kill the problem!”

“No.” Tahl looked down at Obi-Wan, brushing strands of hair away from his face, feeling his face with nimble fingers. She could feel the tenseness of muscles, Obi-Wan guarded even in sleep and she ached. No one should be so wary all the time. “Killing isn’t easy. It shouldn’t be. Not unless you’re like what you hate. You may have killed Palpatine, you may not. You’ll never know for certain.”

Tahl’s fingers ghosted along Obi-Wan’s face, tracing the ridge of his brow, the curve of his cheek, cleft of his chin. He seemed so young, skin smooth and free of wrinkles, but there were lines around his eyes, his lips pulled down in an angry frown. She could feel the muscles of his cheek twitch beneath her fingers.

His sleep was restless.

“You can try justifying it, telling yourself you did it for the right reasons,” Tahl continued. “But you know it’s not true. Ending another person’s life, no matter if you did it intentionally or not isn’t easy; not if you value life. And you do value life Qui-Gon. Almost as much as your value free will and the right to choose. Palpatine didn’t value those things. That man isn’t someone who you should mourn or agonise over, but I know you. You don’t regret him being gone; you regret that you acted without thought, fear and desperation driving you beyond your reason and control.”

Tahl’s fingers carded through Obi-Wan’s hair, gently stroking his head, eliciting a soft sound from him. “Don’t conflate your anger at your lack of control with the reality of Palpatine’s death. You’ll drive yourself mad and Obi-Wan will suffer. You didn’t set the fire, Obi-Wan did. You didn’t kidnap Obi-Wan, Palpatine did. What you did today was so human and instinctive it scares you. But Qui,” Tahl paused. “Welcome to being in love.”

Qui-Gon remained silent, thinking and Tahl let the matter drop, returning to humming gently, feeling the tension in Obi-Wan’s face drain away slightly as she hummed songs she hadn’t thought of in years.

Qui-Gon Jinn was like family to her, but Tahl sometimes despaired at his ability to confuse his own emotions and thoughts when he was so very capable of discerning those of others. It had often been one of the reasons Tahl had stuck so close to her friend when they’d been young students, off seeing the world for the first time.

“Drop me off outside, you don’t need to come in Qui-Gon,” Tahl said softly, gently lifting Obi-Wan’s head out of her lap. “He’s going to need you.”

Qui-Gon hesitated as he pulled up at the side of the road. “Are you-”

“Yes Qui,” Tahl cut him off, looking in his direction and smiling. “I have Micah to dote on me. You and Obi-Wan need time alone.”

Tahl crawled carefully across the van, reaching out and searching for her bag. She pulled it towards her, slipping out of the van carefully. Waving at Qui-Gon, Tahl closed the door of the van gently, and Qui-Gon listened to the sound of her shoes on the pavement. He watched as she reached for the lock on her front door, fingers grazing over the keyhole, other hand already searching in her bag for her keys.

He wouldn’t leave until she was inside her home, safe and sound.

Tahl slid the key into the lock with practiced ease, twisting the key and pushing down on the handle with her elbow. She pushed the door open, stepping over the lip of the door, pulling out her key. Turning she stood on the threshold of her home and waved, a soft smile etched on her features.

Qui-Gon pulled away slowly, driving down the street, glancing in the rearview mirror at Obi-Wan who had curled up into a ball. Qui-Gon sighed softly. _‘God Obi-Wan. I love you so much I don’t know what to do.’_

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Obi-Wan climbed out of the van, wincing as his ribs protested. Qui-Gon reached out and steadied as he wobbled precariously. Obi-Wan looked at him.

“Come on,” Qui-Gon said softly. “Garen, Bant and Reeft at your house. They wanted to come over and see you but I’ve told them to give you a little time to recover.”

Obi-Wan nodded, following Qui-Gon into the café, dragging his feet. He wanted to cling to Qui-Gon, to burrow into his arms and disappear from the world.

But he didn’t.

“Shower and sleep I think,” Qui-Gon said, turning to look at Obi-Wan at the door to the stairs leading up to his apartment. Obi-Wan nodded.

“I-” Qui-Gon looked at him, waiting for Obi-Wan to continue. “He drugged me.”

“With what?” Qui-Gon asked, not letting the spike of anger Obi-Wan’s words elicited show. Obi-Wan was tense, fragile and skittish. He didn’t want to upset him by losing his temper.

“I’m not sure,” Obi-Wan said haltingly, gaze shifting away from Qui-Gon. “It- he- I think he might have used it ah- before.”

“Are you in pain?” Qui-Gon’s face creased, not realising what Obi-Wan was inferring at first.

“A little,” Obi-Wan admitted, shifting awkwardly. “It- well. Cock rings are more pleasant to be honest.”

Qui-Gon’s eyebrows rose in surprise and confusion before he realised-

 _‘That fucking bastard.’_ Qui-Gon fought to remain calm, trying not to curse out loud at Palpatine’s actions. “Come on, we’ll see if a shower can help.”

“I think it’s mostly worn off,” Obi-Wan said quietly, following Qui-Gon up the stairs. “He- he left before he could do anything but, I wasn’t- wasn’t able to do anything to escape with it distracting me so I…” Obi-Wan trailed off.

“Did what you had to do in order to function,” Qui-Gon finished calmly. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of with that Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan said nothing else.

Qui-Gon opened the door to his flat, not bothering with the lights as he stepped aside to let Obi-Wan inside. He shut the door, locking the top lock after glancing at it. The open-plan apartment was dim, the light from the street lamp outside reflecting on the shiny surfaces of the kitchen counters, the microwave and oven. Its orange-yellow hue spilled across the wooden floor, painting lines of colour on the walls.

There was a scent of acrid smoke in the air. Their clothes.

‘ _A change for us both. A shower too_ , _’_ Qui-Gon thought, rubbing his face with a hand, blinking back tiredness. _‘And some sleep_.’

“He’s really dead isn’t he?” Obi-Wan’s voice was loud in the quiet room. Qui-Gon looked at him. “He’s really dead.”

The shock-numb look on Obi-Wan’s face worried Qui-Gon, made him want to shake Obi-Wan, to wipe that numbness from him. Instead he reached out and gently enveloped Obi-Wan in a hug, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s slender form, pressing a soft kiss into Obi-Wan’s hair before resting his chin on the top of his head.

Obi-Wan’s arms slowly rose, sliding around Qui-Gon’s frame, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly, face pressed into the crook of Qui-Gon’s shoulder. A shuddering breath escaped Obi-Wan.

Then another.

And another.

“No one could have survived that fire, Obi-Wan. Not after being hit in the head with a two-by-four,” Qui-Gon gently reminded the man as hot tears soaked his shirt, Obi-Wan’s frame shuddering repeatedly as silent sobs wracked his form. “He can’t hurt you anymore. He can’t hurt _anyone_ anymore.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain of that.”

Qui-Gon spun around, Obi-Wan stumbling back a step as they separated, staring in wide-eyed horror.

“ _No_.” Obi-Wan stared, grip on Qui-Gon’s forearm tight enough to hurt, heart pounding as he stared. Qui-Gon’s mouth was open in silent surprise, arms tense, shoulders drawn.

A cruel chuckle, raspy and dark. “Yes.”

Palpatine stepped forward from the corner of the room he had been stood in, obscured by the long shadows of the room, genial smile on his face that did little more than make the demented gleam in his eyes all the more terrifying.

He held a gun in his hand, the silver of the barrel reflecting the light from the street lamp outside. Qui-Gon shifted and the gun moved, focusing on him, barrel sinister and grabbing his attention.

“Now, now.” Palpatine tutted, staring at Qui-Gon. “Let us not act hastily mister Jinn. It would be… unfortunate if someone was hurt because of senseless heroics.”

Qui-Gon gritted his teeth, jaw clenched. “I will not allow you to hurt Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon ground out, voice as calm as he could make it but the anger and hatred he felt towards Palpatine was clear. God but he wanted to rip his throat out.

 _‘Calm, keep calm,’_ Qui-Gon thought at himself, clenching his hands into tight fists. _‘Don’t do anything stupid. Keep calm.’_

“Hurt him?” Palpatine quirked a brow, amused. “Why would I hurt him? Obi-Wan has always enjoyed what I have done to him.” Palpatine looked at Obi-Wan, smile widening. There was a shallow cute above his right eye. “Haven’t you my dear Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan swallowed, staring at Palpatine. His mind felt blank, numb but whirring away at the same time, a thousand thoughts and memories tearing through his mind, emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He shook his head, hand clenched at his side, other gripping Qui-Gon’s arm.

Palpatine tutted, as though he was disappointed with Obi-Wan’s response and anger burned through Obi-Wan suddenly, thawing his frozen limbs and loosening his locked jaw. He stepped forward, glaring and halted only when the gun was directed at him, Palpatine cocking it with a raised eyebrow.

“What do you want from me?” Obi-Wan spat, shaking from anger and fear, emotions blending together and making it difficult for him to remember that Palpatine would shoot him so goading him would be unwise. “Why can’t you leave me the hell alone!”

The smile on Palpatine’s face grew cold, gaze like icy fire. “You took my life’s work Obi-Wan. You took it and showed it to the world and thought I would not take offense? And now you’ve destroyed everything I rebuilt.” Palpatine tilted his head, mocking derision clear to see in his gaze. “You are not that naïve.”

“You came after _me_ ,” Obi-Wan said hotly. “You came after me and even after everything you keep coming back!” Obi-Wan snorted, shaking from a combination of anger and fear. “I called you crazy before and I meant it. You’re mad. You keep doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result each time.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “It’s pathetic.”

Palpatine’s gaze narrowed, anger burning in his watery-blue eyes and Qui-Gon sized up the stand-off, worried of what was going to happen now Obi-Wan had hit back at the lunatic. He was too far from Palpatine to attack, not unless he wished to risk Obi-Wan or himself being injured… or killed.

There was little he could do _alone_ but he and Obi-Wan could work together, distract Palpatine at different points and gain ground.

Maybe.

Palpatine smiled suddenly. “Perhaps it is madness.” He conceded softly, slipping a hand into the coat he wore, pulling out a packet of zip-ties that he tossed at Obi-Wan. “But even the mad can plan and adapt.”

Obi-Wan caught the packet with both hands, letting go of Qui-Gon’s arm to do so, and he stared at Palpatine. “What am I meant to do with these?” He asked, voice trembling slightly but Obi-Wan fought with himself to not show the fear he felt.

 _‘This isn’t good,’_ he thought, already having some idea what Palpatine was planning. _‘Fuck. This is_ not _good.’_

“Tie up mister Jinn please Obi-Wan.” Palpatine instructed, his gaze calm, voice hard. Obi-Wan stared at him, rebelliousness rearing its head and Palpatine smiled slightly, mocking amusement clear to read on his face, shaking the gun in his hand pointedly. “Unless you wish for him to die now?”

Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan. “It’s all right Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said softly, giving Obi-Wan a reassuring nod and holding his hands out in front of him. “It’ll be all right.”

The look Obi-Wan gave him clearly conveyed how little Obi-Wan believed his words. In truth Qui-Gon didn’t believe them either.

Palpatine made a mocking sound before he chimed in again. “ _Behind_ his back Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan glared at Palpatine who pointedly aimed at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan reluctantly opened the packet of zip-ties, pulling one out and wrapping it around Qui-Gon’s hands behind his back.

He was close enough to Qui-Gon that his whispered words were impossible for Palpatine to hear. “Don’t act too soon,” Obi-Wan whispered, words ghosting over Qui-Gon’s skin like a gentle breeze.

“Make sure it’s tight Obi-Wan,” Palpatine said, tone paternal, as though he were directing a young child in how to carry out some new task they had never done before. “Then tie mister Jinn to the radiator by the window please.”

The politeness of Palpatine’s orders made Qui-Gon’s blood boil even as Obi-Wan’s turned to ice. They were powerless here and, now Qui-Gon was restrained, in an even worse position than before. Whatever Obi-Wan had planned, Qui-Gon prayed it worked.

 _‘God Obi-Wan, please don’t let him touch you,’_ Qui-Gon thought suddenly, realising with a sinking heart that this was not going to end well for them. _‘Oh God please don’t let him touch you.’_

The radiator was less than half Qui-Gon’s height and he was forced to kneel so that Obi-Wan could thread another zip-tie through his bound hands and around the radiator pipe. Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan, the other man close enough that his breath lingered on Qui-Gon’s skin. He wanted to say something, anything to reassure him, but Qui-Gon found his throat dry, lips sealed shut as he stared.

Obi-Wan glanced at him, angered fear burning in his eyes, face pale, eyes wide. Qui-Gon looked at him with a sense of helplessness that warred with the anger burning in his gut. Obi-Wan gave him a soft smile, trying to be reassuring. Obi-Wan took a steadying breath and rose slowly, turning to stare at Palpatine who watched them both with a sort of dark glee barely masked behind a small smile. There was anger there too. Anger at Qui-Gon.

Palpatine held something else in his free hand, something that glinted and for a moment Qui-Gon thought it was a second gun, until Palpatine’s hold loosened and half of what he was holding came to dangle below his hand, swinging slightly side-to-side.

Handcuffs.

Qui-Gon tensed, shifting and forced himself to speak. “Don’t you dar-”

“I can do whatever I wish right now mister Jinn, your presence ensures it.” Palpatine cut him off, the malicious glee in his gaze unmistakable. Obi-Wan stared at the handcuffs in Palpatine’s hand and Palpatine looked at him with a widening smile.

“Behind your back Obi-Wan.” The handcuffs were tossed at Obi-Wan who caught them automatically, hand spasming. Qui-Gon watched in a helpless rage as Obi-Wan slowly placed one of the cuffs around his wrist, the clicking of it closing around his flesh making Qui-Gon’s heart beat frantically. Palpatine smiled. “Just like old times. The restraints from before are something you are apparently adept at escaping. I was quite surprised.”

Obi-Wan moved his hands behind his back, second handcuff clicking shut around his other wrist and Palpatine moved.

Qui-Gon slammed forward, brought up short by the ties keeping him restrained, unable to stop Palpatine from shoving Obi-Wan back making him stumble, back of his legs hitting the edge of Qui-Gon’s bed. Before Obi-Wan could regain his balance Palpatine shoved him again, forcing his knees to bend and Qui-Gon watched helplessly as Obi-Wan fell back on the bed, unable to avoid falling on his bound hands and letting out a sharp, pained breath.

He could hear Obi-Wan’s frantic breathing. Qui-Gon pulled against the ties, unable to free himself. He watched helplessly as Palpatine grabbed one of Obi-Wan’s flailing legs, fingers wrapping around Obi-Wan’s ankle and forcing his leg down, grabbing Obi-Wan’s other leg and forcing it down as well.

Something cut into Qui-Gon’s wrist making him wince and he thought for a moment that it was the tie cutting into his skin. But it was sharp, not hardened rubber. Shifting, still watching and growling at how Palpatine manhandled Obi-Wan until he was straddling his waist, Qui-Gon twisted his hands in their restraints until he could feel with his fingers where the sharp cutting pain in his wrist originated.

Cold metal met his fingertips and Qui-Gon realised what it was with a jolt. Obi-Wan’s small penknife, the one he always kept in his pocket.

How had he-

“No!” Obi-Wan cried out, twisting uselessly beneath Palpatine who stared down at him, hands running down Obi-Wan’s chest. “No! Get off mrppf!”

Palpatine’s hand pressed against Obi-Wan’s mouth, muffling his cries. Obi-Wan stared up at him, eyes wide, breathing erratic. “That’s quite enough of that Obi-Wan.” Palpatine tutted. He rolled his hips, smiling when Obi-Wan moaned, pressing back against him. “Oh it seems there’s enough of the drug in your system still. How fortunate.”

Qui-Gon cursed and swore, spitting out dark threats and promises at Palpatine who threw him a dark, gleeful look, the man clearly taking great pleasure in Obi-Wan’s angry fear and Qui-Gon’s helpless rage.

“I’ll kill you,” Qui-Gon promised, voice a deep growl, eyes dark and Palpatine laughed. “I’ll fucking kill you if you touch him.”

“No,” Palpatine shook his head. “You will watch as I take back what is mine.”

Obi-Wan’s muffled cries echoed in the room, his struggling becoming more desperate, head thrashing to the side, trying desperately to dislodge Palpatine in any way possible. He bucked up, ignoring the way Palpatine let out a quiet moan at the sensation, throwing as much of his weight behind the movement as possible, fighting his own moan at the friction the movement created.

It was useless.

He was trapped.

 _‘Oh God no,’_ Obi-Wan thought frantically, chest heaving as Palpatine refocused his attention on him, ignoring the way Qui-Gon spat curses and dark promises at him. Obi-Wan could barely make out what Qui-Gon was saying, too much terror blinding him, heart beating so hard his blood pounded in his ears, deafening him. _‘Please no, oh God no. Not after everything! I won’t let this happen! I won’t!’_

Palpatine leaned down, face close to Obi-Wan’s, breath fetid. His eyes were bright with malice, dark promise and the mad glee at the suffering of others that Obi-Wan had never noticed until it was too late. “You belong to me Obi-Wan,” Palpatine crooned softly, other hand coming up and wrapping around Obi-Wan’s throat. “You. Are. _Mine_.”

The hand on Obi-Wan’s throat tightened, the hand over his mouth shifting, covering his nose as well. Obi-Wan thrashed, muffled shouts and pleas and curses unintelligible as his vision swam, darkness encroaching. His legs kicked out, scrambling for purchase and not finding any, hands trapped beneath him, restrained and useless.

His eyes rolled back in his head, chest convulsing at the lack of oxygen, the sound of someone shouting echoing in his ears.

 _‘I’m dying,’_ Obi-Wan thought with sudden clarity, even as his awareness of the world faded. _‘I’m going to die.’_

“OBI-WAN!” A scream. Desperation in every letter. It caught what remained of Obi-Wan’s conscious awareness.

 _‘I hope he doesn’t kill you too Qui. I hope you escape,’_ Obi-Wan thought mournfully, body shaking as it fought for the oxygen Palpatine was denying it. _‘I’m so sorry.’_

Obi-Wan’s eyes slipped shut, chest heaving. He was dying.

‘ _I’m so sorry. I love you Qui._ ’

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Palpatine let go of Obi-Wan’s throat, removing his hand from over Obi-Wan’s mouth and nose. He watched as Obi-Wan coughed, spasming, chest convulsing as he instinctively breathed in.

Palpatine smiled. _‘You are mine,’_ he thought, stroking Obi-Wan’s face, fingers ghosting over Obi-Wan’s open mouth as he shook weakly.

Qui-Gon was shouting, cursing viciously but Palpatine ignored him. The man was inconsequential to him, but Obi-Wan cared for him. Such attachment was a weakness and it was one Palpatine was perfectly willing to exploit.

Even if keeping the other man alive irritated him.

“If you don’t stop with your meaningless threats mister Jinn I’m afraid Obi-Wan will have to suffer for your actions,” Palpatine said mildly, glancing at Qui-Gon who stilled, going silent as he stared. “A wise course.”

“A threat is only meaningless when you have no intention of following through,” Qui-Gon ground out, almost growling, the muscles in his neck so tense the artery stood out clearly.

Palpatine smiled, fingers sliding through Obi-Wan’s hair softly before he twisted the strands in his fingertips, gripping tightly and he viciously wrenched Obi-Wan’s head making him cry out weakly. Qui-Gon hissed, eyes dark, straining forward and Palpatine knew that his wrists would be bleeding from the force Qui-Gon was exerting on the ties.

It pleased him immensely.

“I do not make threats,” Palpatine said softly, pulling Obi-Wan’s hair again and making him whimper, head twisting as he tried to free himself and causing him further discomfort. “I make promises mister Jinn. And I always ‘follow through’ on them.”

Palpatine looked back at Obi-Wan, smile widening. “Like so,” he said, shifting his weight back slightly, free hand running down the length of Obi-Wan’s chest, lingering at the hem. “I made you a promise before Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan stared at him, eyes bright with terror he couldn’t hide. “No,” he whispered, wincing when Palpatine adjusted his grip on his hair, pulling his head to the side so much so that his temple nearly touched his shoulder. “Don’t.”

Palpatine’s hand moved lower, slipping beneath the band of Obi-Wan’s jeans, Obi-Wan squirming beneath him, trying to avoid the inevitable. “I keep my promises don’t I Obi-Wan?”

“Don’t I?” Palpatine wrapped his hand around Obi-Wan’s hard cock, grip tight and unforgiving. Obi-Wan whimpered, keening in pain when Palpatine’s grip tightened. “Answer me Obi-Wan.” He punctuated his command with a vicious twist of his hand, drawing a cry of pain from Obi-Wan’s lips.

“Y-yes,” Obi-Wan stuttered, cheeks wet. “Yes.”

Palpatine smiled, grip loosening and Obi-Wan couldn’t help the sigh of relief from the action, though his relief turned into horror when Palpatine began moving his hand up and down his length, pausing to rub his thumb over the slit of Obi-Wan’s cock.

Gasping, Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut, teeth bared in a silent snarl of horror and hate. Palpatine fondled his balls, rolling them in his hand, squeezing gently and bile rose in his throat as Obi-Wan felt himself responding to Palpatine’s ministrations more and more.

“S-stop!” Obi-Wan gasped, squirming and trying to escape Palpatine’s hold. “Stop!”

Palpatine struck him, open-palmed, snapping Obi-Wan’s head to the side.

Obi-Wan groaned, blinking and turning his head to look at Palpatine, head slamming into the bed when Palpatine struck him again. And again.

Over and over until Obi-Wan could barely think beyond the pain and sensation, each slap timed to coincide with a stroke of his cock, making him tremble and gasp and moan and cry out in pain and pleasure.

It was what Palpatine had always done to him. Held him down, struck him, brought him close to climax, made him writhe and beg and plead.

“Call me by my name Obi-Wan,” Palpatine whispered into Obi-Wan’s ear, pausing in his beating, hand stilling on Obi-Wan’s cock. “Do it Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan shook his head, eyes squeezed shut, breathing erratic, chest heaving, hands going numb beneath him. “N-no. Never.”

Stars exploded behind his eyes, head rocking to the side from a punch powerful enough it cut his cheek, the ring on Palpatine’s finger slicing his skin. Distantly he heard shouting, a disappointed comment, but he felt disconnected, like he was floating.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Qui-Gon surged forward, the small penknife Obi-Wan had slipped him before grasped in his hand. He barrelled into Palpatine, tackling him with so much force he sent them rolling off Obi-Wan and off the end of the bed, falling into a tangled heap of struggling limbs.

Qui-Gon lashed out with an elbow, catching Palpatine in the face, following it up with a knee to the gut and he slashed at the bastard with the knife, cutting into the black fucking coat Palpatine wore.

Cursing in surprised pain, Palpatine kicked at Qui-Gon, foot connecting with Qui-Gon’s knee and making him cry out in pain. He swung again with the knife and Palpatine caught his arm, halting the blade mid-air. They grappled, struggling against each other, rolling around on the floor until eventually Qui-Gon won and pinned Palpatine.

He stared down at the man who looked at him with an amused sort of anger. “What are you going to do mister Jinn?” Palpatine asked curiously. “Kill me?”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon answered ramming the blade into Palpatine’s chest without hesitation. He watched in grim satisfaction as Palpatine gasped, eyes going wide in surprise, mouth working silently. Life faded from Palpatine’s eyes slowly, each drop pulled from them sluggishly, as though the man refused to die. Maybe he was, but Qui-Gon twisted the blade, digging it in deeper.

“I keep my promises you bastard.” Qui-Gon snarled, falling back and staring at the dead body of the bastard who had tormented Obi-Wan so much over the years. Obi-Wan who was-

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon cried out, scrambling onto his hands and knees and climbing onto the bed. “Obi-Wan!”

Obi-Wan was curled on his side, head tucked as close to his chest as he could manage, knees drawn up. He was shaking.

Qui-Gon looked at Palpatine’s corpse, grimaced and moved back toward it, searching the pockets until he found the key for the handcuffs. Gently he climbed onto the bed beside Obi-Wan, leaning forward and slowly unlocking the handcuffs. He pulled Obi-Wan’s arms forward carefully, worry growing when Obi-Wan didn’t even hiss in pain.

 _‘Is he in shock?’_ Qui-Gon wondered, gingerly pulling Obi-Wan towards him, stopping when Obi-Wan flailed weakly against him. “Obi-Wan it’s me. It’s Qui-Gon.” He said softly, hands holding Obi-Wan’s flailing arms, stopping him from hurting himself.

Slowly Obi-Wan’s flailing subsided and Qui-Gon was able to pull him into his lap, pulling the bedsheet up and over Obi-Wan’s bottom half, giving him some dignity at least. Qui-Gon rocked Obi-Wan back and forth gently, hand in his hair, stroking his head, making soft sounds of reassurance.

The shaking gradually subsided, faint tremors remaining and Qui-Gon looked down at Obi-Wan’s face. “Obi-Wan?” He asked tentatively. “Obi-Wan please say something.”

“I-” Obi-Wan’s voice was weak, quiet. “I hate karma.”

Qui-Gon couldn’t help but smile, eyes hot with tears. “So do I,” Qui-Gon said, pressing a kiss to Obi-Wan’s brow. “So do I.”

“Wha- what do we…” Obi-Wan whispered. “Do w-with h-h-him?”

Qui-Gon sighed. He wasn’t sure.

“The police said he died in the explosion,” Qui-Gon said quietly. “I have no doubt there will be evidence proving that.”

“C-can’t we j-just b-burn him or s-something?” Obi-Wan stuttered, shivering. “I don’t w-want to e-explain t-this to t-the police.”

“Me neither,” Qui-Gon confessed. “I may be able to sort something out.” Qui-Gon added. “I know a guy.”

“I-I hope h-he’s g-good at c-clean-up,” Obi-Wan quipped, burrowing into Qui-Gon’s chest.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Dex hadn’t asked any questions, or even been all that surprised when Qui-Gon called him up in the middle of the night with a simple “I need your help” as a greeting. If anything, the man had seemed ecstatic.

“Anything for you mate!” Dex agreed merrily, not even phased when he heard what Qui-Gon wanted him to help with. “There’s a lovely spot in the countryside, nice lake. No one ever fucking bothers with it.”

“I don’t know what disturbs me more,” Qui-Gon said. “The fact that you’re willing to do this or the fact you know about such places.”

Dex laughed down the phone, giving Qui-Gon a location to get to and then hung up, promising to be there in two hours.

Obi-Wan remained behind, cleaning the evidence, hands shaking. Qui-Gon tried to convince him to leave it but Obi-Wan was stubborn.

“I _need_ to do something,” Obi-Wan insisted. “I need- I’m doing this.”

Qui-Gon wisely didn’t argue with him, recognising the glint of desperate stubbornness in Obi-Wan’s gaze. It was a look he had seen in the mirror enough times when he was a teen to know it was pointless to argue.

Dex was leaning against his car, cigarette in hand, glowing in the darkness when Qui-Gon pulled up beside him. The van for the café was old, banged-up and not for the first time Qui-Gon was glad he’d let Wolffe convince him to buy it from his brother. The fact that Cody had offered him at half the asking price had been a bonus.

“Nice piece of shit Jinn,” Dex said, flicking his cigarette into the bushes by his car, standing fully and giving Qui-Gon an amused look. “How much were you ripped off for that piece of shit?”

“Less than you would have,” Qui-Gon replied, slamming the door behind him and striding up to Dex, staring at him with an amused look on his face.

Dex laughed, reaching out and pulling Qui-Gon into a bear hug, his own height an easy match for Qui-Gon’s but where Qui-Gon was tall with a swimmer’s body, Dex looked like he was a contestant for _World’s Strongest Man_. When they’d been younger Qui-Gon had often looked up to Dex – literally before his first growth spurt – and as they’d grown older he’d remained a close friend; numerous run ins with the law notwithstanding.

 _‘Though his criminal history is coming in handy now,’_ Qui-Gon thought ruefully. _‘As is mine.’_

Qui-Gon owed Dex so much, more than he owed anyone else in his life, and if he was entirely honest, the only reason he had no criminal record was because of what Dex had done for him when they’d been young and stupid and angry at the world.

“Cheeky fucker.” Dex chuckled, releasing his hold on Qui-Gon, hands on his shoulders. “You don’t look too good mate.”

Qui-Gon grimaced. “That’s an understatement I think Dex,” Qui-Gon said and Dex nodded.

“So, want to tell me why you need a body putting in the ground out of the way?” Dex asked causally as they opened the doors to the back of Qui-Gon’s van. Qui-Gon’s shoulders tensed at the question. “Don’t get me wrong Qui-Gon, I’m happy to help. Anyone you think needs putting in the ground probably more than deserves it, but-”

“But it’s not something you ever thought I’d ask?” Qui-Gon finished, giving Dex a sad smile. Dex nodded. “Honestly, I didn’t either.”

“So what happened?” Dex asked, voice softer, reassuring and non-judgemental. He looked at the tarp-wrapped form on the bed of the van. Then he noticed the hacksaw and painter overalls. “That’s slightly worrying forethought.”

“As the kids say: go big or go home right?” Qui-Gon quipped dryly, huffing in a sort of tired amusement. He sighed. “Fuck Dex, relationships aren’t meant to be this difficult.”

Dex stared at him. He looked at the wrapped body. Then at Qui-Gon. “Fuck Qui-Gon!” Dex exclaimed. “Did you murder your boyfriend! What _the_ _fuck_ man?”

“What!” Qui-Gon stared at him, eyes wide. “I- what? No! Why the fuck would I murder my boyfriend? What the fuck Dex!”

“Well what do you expect me to think Qui-Gon!” Dex threw his hands up. “You call me up in the middle of the fucking night, say ‘I need your help’ show up with a wrapped body and a fucking _hacksaw_. Then you mention how difficult relationships are! What else was I meant to think?”

“Not _that_!” Qui-Gon near shouted. “Jesus Dex! I-” Qui-Gon cut off abruptly, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm down. In a more measured, calmer voice he continued. “If I murdered someone I cared about Dex I wouldn’t be burying them out in the middle of fucking nowhere, I’d be hanging myself!”

Dex stared at him. “Fair enough.” Dex looked at the body in the van. “So, dismemberment then a visit to the lake?”

Qui-Gon nodded. “Sounds good.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

Obi-Wan knelt on the floor, gloved hands bloody, the cloth in his hand stained. He scrubbed relentlessly, breathing through his mouth, eyes burning from the sweat rolling down his face, hair sticking to his head. He resolutely refused to think, to process what he was doing. He was just doing.

The scent of iron was cloying. Obi-Wan swallowed, throat thick and dry. The blinds had been pulled down on the windows, blocking the light of the street lamp outside, the soft warmth of the overhead lights highlighting the stark contrast of the blood on the wooden floor. It captured his attention and Obi-Wan stared at the watery pool of blood he was scrubbing away at.

 _‘What have I done?’_ Obi-Wan thought numbly, staring down at the blood blankly. _‘What have I done?’_

Qui-Gon had killed a man. Killed… Palpatine. He’d killed Obi-Wan’s own personal nightmare and now he was off disposing of the body. The body that shouldn’t even exist. This was all Obi-Wan’s fault. The explosion was one thing.

This though… Qui-Gon…

 _‘I should have fought him,’_ Obi-Wan blinked back tears. _‘I should have stopped him. I should have done something. I-’_

The blood took hours to clean, the wooden flooring stained in an obvious way, the pool having been large enough to raise questions. Qui-Gon would probably have to replace his floor after everything.

 _‘All I do is drag people down,’_ Obi-Wan thought, sitting back on his haunches, arms resting on his knees, staring at the wall. _‘I’m a fuck up.’_

Tears rolled down Obi-Wan’s face. ‘ _This is all my fault. I caused this_.’

“I should have died in that fucking theatre,” Obi-Wan snarled at himself, scrubbing his face angrily, wiping away tears.

The door to the apartment opened suddenly and Obi-Wan scrambled backwards, panic burning in his chest. It took him a few seconds to recognise that it was Qui-Gon. He hadn’t made a sound on the stairs.

“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked carefully, standing at the door, staring at him with sad eyes.

“I’m- I’m okay,” Obi-Wan said, swallowing mid-sentence. He tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace of pain. “I- I’m-”

Qui-Gon crossed the distance between them, the door shutting behind him. He dropped to his knees before Obi-Wan and pulled him into an embrace. “It’s okay not to be okay Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan clutched at Qui-Gon, head burrowing into his neck and a great wracking sob escaped him.

“This- this is stupid!” Obi-Wan hiccupped, angry with himself. “I’m not t-the one who- who-”

“Killed someone.” Qui-Gon finished softly, feeling Obi-Wan’s nod at his words. He smiled sadly, pressing a kiss into Obi-Wan’s hair. “I had a freak out earlier. Dex helped calm me down. You’re allowed to feel like this Obi-Wan.”

“It’s not right!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, pulling back from Qui-Gon to stare him in the face. “He doesn’t deserve anything from me! He deserved to fucking die and I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t-”

“Feel like you’ve lost someone?” Qui-Gon asked gently, watching as Obi-Wan’s lip trembled. “Palpatine hurt you, but at one point you cared about him. What you feel now doesn’t diminish you. It doesn’t make you less and what he did doesn’t mean you can’t be upset or care.”

Qui-Gon pressed a gentle kiss to Obi-Wan’s brow. “You’re allowed to feel what you feel Obi-Wan. Why you feel it doesn’t make it any less real or relevant.”

“But I hate him,” Obi-Wan whispered brokenly. “I _hate_ him.”

“And once you loved him,” Qui-Gon countered, ignoring the way Obi-Wan tensed. “One does not exclude the other. You had feelings for him and after everything he’s done that doesn’t make those feelings any less real or wrong. Only part of your past. You’re allowed to grieve, even if that grief is mixed with anger and hate.”

Qui-Gon smiled softly, brushing away the fresh tears rolling down Obi-Wan’s face. “We’re only human after all.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

23rd June, 2015:

Lying in bed Qui-Gon leaned against the headboard of his bed, ankles crossed, atop the blanket. Beside him Obi-Wan lay, leaning slightly against Qui-Gon’s arm, scrolling through his emails on his phone.

Pausing on a specific email, Obi-Wan read it slowly, eyes narrowed as he processed the words on the screen. Qui-Gon glanced at him, glasses perched on his nose, the paperback novel in his hand dropping into his lap. Obi-Wan sucked in a breath.

“What is it?” Qui-Gon asked curiously, concerned that whatever Obi-Wan was reading wasn’t good. “Is something wrong?”

“N-no.” Obi-Wan breathed, re-reading the email, eyes widening, smile breaking out on his face. “No everything- everything is _perfect_.”

“Oh?” Qui-Gon arched a brow, amused when Obi-Wan looked at him, smile bright, eyes full of elation. “How so?”

Obi-Wan shifted, twisting so his upper half was facing Qui-Gon, legs still tangled in the bedsheet. He tilted his phone, letting Qui-Gon see the screen and read the email himself.

Eyes scanning the text, Qui-Gon’s other brow rose in surprise. _Oh_.

_Dear Mr Kenobi,_

_It is with my great pleasure I inform you that your tests have all come back negative indicating that you are not infected with HIV. Please see the attached documents for a full breakdown._

_These details have been added to your medical records…_

Qui-Gon stared at the screen, a slow smile spreading on his face. Next to him Obi-Wan laughed.

“I’m clean!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, staring at Qui-Gon who smiled at him. “I’m _clean!_ ”

Qui-Gon laughed and Obi-Wan darted forward, pressing his lips against Qui-Gon’s. He mumbled against Qui-Gon’s lips, joy seeping out of every pore and Qui-Gon pulled his book out of his lap, dropping it on the bedside table.

He wrapped an arm around Obi-Wan’s waist, pulling him flush against him, half on top of him. The sheet around Obi-Wan’s legs was kicked off, Obi-Wan shifting until he was lying atop of Qui-Gon, body slotting against Qui-Gon’s perfectly.

Slipping his tongue into Obi-Wan’s mouth, Qui-Gon’s hands roamed over Obi-Wan’s back, one slipping beneath his loose t-shirt, plastering against Obi-Wan’s broad, muscled back. Obi-Wan’s phone dropped from his hand, disappearing beneath the sheets and Obi-Wan threaded his fingers through Qui-Gon’s hair, other hand wrapped around the back of Qui-Gon’s neck.

Shifting onto his knees Obi-Wan rolled his hips, groaning into the kiss when Qui-Gon thrust up against him. Breaking the kiss Obi-Wan threw his head back, neck stretched as Qui-Gon licked and nipped at the flesh.

Rolling his hips again, Obi-Wan ground down against Qui-Gon’s cock, hand in Qui-Gon’s hair twisting strands and tugging lightly. Qui-Gon rolled them over suddenly, kneeling over Obi-Wan, hand beside Obi-Wan’s head supporting his weight, other reaching out and pulling Obi-Wan’s leg around his waist, Qui-Gon’s cock pressing into the cleft of Obi-Wan’s ass through his pyjama trousers.

The hand in Qui-Gon’s hair tightened to the point of pain and Qui-Gon hissed, looking down at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were squeezed shut, brow furrowed, chest heaving. Qui-Gon could have mistaken it for Obi-Wan being intensely aroused and trying to control himself but…

Obi-Wan’s other hand, resting on the bed by his side was shaking, twitching.

 _‘Shit.’_ Qui-Gon carefully lowered Obi-Wan’s leg, moving away from Obi-Wan carefully, a hand gently loosening Obi-Wan’s fingers in his hair, pulling the strands free and wrapping his hand around Obi-Wan’s softly. _‘I should have known this would happen.’_

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said softly, shifting on the bed and lying down beside Obi-Wan, space between them; the only point of contact between their bodies their clasped hands. “Obi-Wan open your eyes.”

Obi-Wan’s lashes flickered but he didn’t open his eyes, mouth pressed shut in a thin line. Qui-Gon’s brow furrowed in concern and worry. “Obi-Wan. Please open your eyes Obi-Wan.”

The hand Qui-Gon was holding tightened, gripping his fingers tightly, and Qui-Gon stared at Obi-Wan’s face, waiting. He didn’t want to rush him, or force him to open his eyes against his will.

That wouldn’t help Obi-Wan.

The trembling in Obi-Wan’s free hand subsided, brow smoothing out slightly and Obi-Wan blew out a breath, hand coming up and covering his eyes.

“Oh God…” Obi-Wan whispered, disgust in his voice. “I’m so fucking pathetic I can’t even-”

“You are _not_ pathetic Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, voice quiet but firm. The hand covering Obi-Wan’s eyes moved and Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon with wide eyes, a look of utter self-loathing on his face. “You’re not.”

“I just had a fucking flashback to- while you were- how is that _not_ pathetic!? I can’t even talk about it for Christ’s sake!” Obi-Wan cried out, moving back and sitting up at the same time, pressing his back against the headboard. Qui-Gon shifted, still holding Obi-Wan’s hand.

“And that’s perfectly normal.” Qui-Gon pointed out calmly, voice soothing. “What Palpatine,” Obi-Wan flinched. “What Palpatine did to you, what he planned to do to you, has affected you. It’s impossible to deny or ignore, and thinking yourself weak for surviving a horrific ideal because you react to similar situations with fear…” Qui-Gon shook his head sadly. “You’re _anything_ but weak Obi-Wan. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

Obi-Wan blinked back tears of frustration, of pain, of sadness, Qui-Gon wasn’t sure.

“You’re not weak for needing time Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said softly, caressing the back of Obi-Wan’s hand, drawing light circles on the lightly tanned skin. “There isn’t a single person alive who can move on from a trauma without needing time to adjust.”

“I don’t want everything in my life to be ruled by _him_ ,” Obi-Wan whispered, eyes wide with desperation. “He’s dead and he’s still controlling me!”

“He kidnapped you Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, fixing Obi-Wan with a stare. “He drugged you against your will, nearly killed you in that theatre and then attacked you in a place you perceived as safe. He nearly raped you and I was helpless to stop him.” Qui-Gon’s eyes shone with regret and grief. “Palpatine took your right to say ‘no’ from you, your freedom and autonomy.”

Obi-Wan trembled, eyes watering, frustration at himself turning into the dark loathing and sadness that had tortured Obi-Wan for months after the first time Palpatine had ruined his life.

“Until I took control you were fine, responsive and receptive to my touch,” Qui-Gon pointed out softly. “You’re not broken and Palpatine doesn’t control you, but he took power from you through sex, and instinctively you panic if you’re in a submissive position with someone over you. It’s normal.”

“It shouldn’t it!” Obi-Wan exploded, wrenching his hand out of Qui-Gon’s grasp. He pulled his legs up, wrapping his arms around his legs and burrowed his head into his knees. “I shouldn’t _feel_ like this.”

“But you do feel like this.” Qui-Gon sat up, facing Obi-Wan. “You can’t change how you feel about something Obi-Wan; not when it’s still fresh and you won’t talk to anyone.”

“And who am I meant to talk to about this!?” Obi-Wan snapped, head jerking up, eyes burning with sudden anger. “There’s no one I can talk to who knows the entire story, no one who can know everything. What fucking _point_ is there to talk to someone when I can’t tell them everything that’s making me fucking terrified to- to-” Obi-Wan waved a hand, gesturing his frustration. “To lie on my back? To go anywhere on my own? To not have you nearby?” Obi-Wan’s gaze was intense, angry helpless etched into his features. “I can’t _talk_ to anyone.”

“You can talk to me,” Qui-Gon said softly, eyes gentle. “I’m not going to judge you Obi-Wan, not for anything. Whatever you think or feel, it’s all valid and you’re allowed to feel it. You’re allowed to be angry at yourself, you’re allowed to be scared to sleep in the dark, you’re allowed to panic when I top. You’re _allowed to feel_ Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan blinked back tears, sniffing. “I don’t want my life- I don’t want your life to be ruined by Palpatine.” Obi-Wan admitted. “I don’t want to lose you to my fucking hang-ups.”

“You won’t lose me Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon promised. “But if you try and push your feelings away. If you try and force yourself to ‘be fine’ you’re going to be the one who suffers for it and I’ll be forced to watch; as helpless as I was when Palpatine forced himself on you and I was tied to the fucking radiator unable to do anything.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, arms tightening around his legs.

“Surviving the initial trauma isn’t the issue Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said softly, reaching out and brushing away the tears that rolled down Obi-Wan’s face. “Sometimes it’s what comes after. The days and weeks and months, sometimes years, where you wake up each day and remember. Where you can’t function because all you can see and hear and feel is what happened to you.” Qui-Gon drew in a sharp breath. Obi-Wan’s eyes opened, fixing on Qui-Gon. “But that’s the thing about being a survivor Obi-Wan. It’s not easy, it’s not meant to be easy. Sometimes you’ll have good days, sometimes bad days, and sometimes you’ll have days where you don’t know what they are and you walk around in a haze, feeling disconnected, like you’re not part of the world around you.”

Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan, eyes shining with understanding. “We all have our trauma’s Obi-Wan. Some of them affect us less than others, but affect us they do and likely always will. Time can help. Time can heal and allow us to make new memories to focus on, to delight in.” Qui-Gon pressed hand against Obi-Wan’s face, cupping his check. “Don’t try and deny what happened to you, you give him power and let what he did to you determine your future. Accept it and growth from it.”

Obi-Wan smiled wanly. “’No fate but what we make’ right?” He quipped, eyes red-rimmed but lighter.

“Indeed.” Qui-Gon nodded. “So let’s make fate together and heal from what has happened to us both: together.”

“Together.” Obi-Wan nodded, voice soft. “I like the sound of that.”

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

7th August, 2015:

Obi-Wan stared out of the window, blue robe wrapped around his frame – sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, belt loosely tied, a wide v-shaped swathe of his chest showing – leaning his head against the window frame. He was perched on the ledge: one leg dangling, the other bent at the knee, arm resting on it. The sun was setting slowly, sky clear, mixed hues of dusky blue and deep purple. Obi-Wan smiled softly, eyes closed as the warmth of the sun soaked into his skin.

The stars would be visible soon enough and Obi-Wan’s smile widened. He missed looking at the stars. Missed their quiet existence, blinking in the night sky with nary a thought for Obi-Wan or his life. He missed the empty, yet somehow comforting revelation that the universe didn’t care about him, that to it Obi-Wan Kenobi was nothing more than a collection of space dust that just so happened to think. He missed the almost reassuring realisation that there was nothing in the sky that controlled him, ruled him or dictated his life or worth: only him and the society he lived in with people who had their own problems, their own lives, their own measuring sticks.

Ultimately, Obi-Wan missed a lot of things.

 _One_ of those many things also happened to be Qui-Gon touching him without freezing every time Obi-Wan tensed up.

He loved the man, he truly did, but Obi-Wan was at the end of his patience with the older man. Qui-Gon’s desire to help him made Obi-Wan’s heart swell with affection – and question Qui-Gon’s sanity often – but his reluctance to go any further when Obi-Wan had a flashback to Palpatine… that made another part of his anatomy swell and then ache at his hesitance.

Obi-Wan had decided that enough was enough. It was time for _action_.

The sound of Qui-Gon ascending the stairs had Obi-Wan glancing at the door expectedly. He tilted his head, temple resting against the window frame, and watched as the door opened, Qui-Gon entering the apartment.

In Qui-Gon’s hands was a box, approximately the length of his forearm with a similar depth and width. Obi-Wan’s eyes sparked with mischief.

“What’s that?” Obi-Wan asked curiously, catching Qui-Gon’s attention, not reacting to the way Qui-Gon stared at him, mouth slightly open.

“I’m not sure,” Qui-Gon said after a moment. He blinked, looking away from Obi-Wan and down at the box in his arms. “Wolffe signed for it but I don’t recall ordering anything. You?”

Obi-Wan hummed non-committedly, sliding off the window ledge and padding over to Qui-Gon, feet bare. He glanced down at the box, before he looked up at Qui-Gon.

“It might be books,” Obi-Wan suggested, inwardly amused at the way Qui-Gon blinked at him, confused.

“Books.” Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow.

Obi-Wan nodded, reaching out and Qui-Gon passed the box to him. There was almost no weight to it. “Hmm, maybe not.”

Obi-Wan turned and headed for the bed, fingers playing with the tape on the sides of the box. He crawled onto the bed, spreading his knees wide, sitting back, heels of his feet pressing against his ass-cheeks. The robe’s belt came undone, sides of the robe falling away, revealing that he was naked save for his skin-tight underwear, and Obi-Wan knew the sight appealed greatly to Qui-Gon. Especially appealed to him, judging by Qui-Gon’s audible swallow.

Opening the box slowly, Obi-Wan glanced up at Qui-Gon as the older man moved closer: curiosity overcoming Qui-Gon’s reservations of being near Obi-Wan when he was so underdressed. He was stood at the edge of the bed, standing over Obi-Wan, head angled down, hands carefully placed down at his sides, fingers curled. Obi-Wan supressed the urge to grin fiercely in satisfaction.

Obi-Wan flipped the top of the box up, peering down at its contents with interest. Qui-Gon craned his head, looking at what was inside as well.

“I didn’t order those,” Qui-Gon said finally, a note of surprise in his voice.

“I did.” Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon, smiling.

“Why?” Qui-Gon asked flatly, a wary look in his eyes as he stared at Obi-Wan.

“Because I want to tie you to the bed and ride you until you come so hard you forget your own name,” Obi-Wan replied simply, eyes sparking as he watched Qui-Gon’s reaction.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth. His eyes were wide. He shut his mouth.

Obi-Wan smirked. “Yes?”

Qui-Gon swallowed, nodding slowly. “Definitely yes.”

Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon for a long moment. Qui-Gon stood calmly, staring at Obi-Wan kneeling on the bed.

“Strip.”

Qui-Gon’s hand rose immediately, the button-down cardigan quickly undone and slipped off his shoulders, landing softly on the ground.

Obi-Wan watched avidly, gaze sharp, focused on Qui-Gon as he slowly pulled his shirt of his head, muscles bunching up and tensing in a way that made Obi-Wan’s cock twitch.

Qui-Gon dropped his shirt to the floor, hands going to his belt and he unbuckled it, staring at Obi-Wan with a hot gaze. He could feel his cock responding to the hungry look in Obi-Wan’s eyes.

 _Fuck_.

Qui-Gon pulled the belt loose, letting it fall to the floor with a loud _thump_ and _chink_ as he slowly unzipped his jeans, the look on Obi-Wan’s face forcing him to stifle a moan.

“Slowly.” Obi-Wan’s voice was a near whisper, husky and heavy with want. Qui-Gon’s cock twitched. He moaned, hands trembling slightly as he slowly pushed his jeans down his legs, stepping out of them.

Never had Qui-Gon been so thankful to have removed his shoes _before_ he’d climbed the stairs to the apartment. He pulled off his socks, one by one until all that he was left in were his underwear, clinging to his groin, cock straining against the fabric.

A small wet patch on the front of his underwear had Qui-Gon moaning again and he looked at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan’s gaze was fixed on the outline of Qui-Gon’s cock, the wet patch making him throb with need.

“Take them off,” Obi-Wan said softly, not looking away as Qui-Gon’s thumb slid beneath the band of his underwear, pulling the fabric down torturously slow until they fell to the ground, Qui-Gon stepping out of them, kicking them over to the side where the rest of his clothes were.

“Come here.”

Qui-Gon moved towards the bed, determined to not say a word unless Obi-Wan asked him to.

This was a game with higher stakes than Qui-Gon suspected Obi-Wan realised and Qui-Gon was determined that Obi-Wan not fail. He highly expected his lover’s sanity depended on this going well.

For all that Qui-Gon had been reluctant to press Obi-Wan, he was well-aware that Obi-Wan had been growing increasingly frustrated by his hesitance. But even though Qui-Gon honestly wanted nothing more than to fuck Obi-Wan into oblivion he loved the man too much to hurt him, or cause him any sort of distress.

Now that Obi-Wan was taking control of their relationship however… well Qui-Gon had hoped this would happen. Obi-Wan wasn’t near half as patient as he liked to _think_ he was.

“Get on the bed, against the headboard,” Obi-Wan commanded, pleased when Qui-Gon looked at him, smiled slightly and proceeded to do as Obi-Wan said. “Hands out to the side.”

Qui-Gon complied, watching with barely concealed arousal as Obi-Wan fished out a long piece of cord from the box, looping it around Qui-Gon’s right wrist before pulling it towards the spindle near it, tying it with a highwayman’s knot. Qui-Gon diligently raised his left hand, allowing Obi-Wan to repeat the process with his left and Qui-Gon tilted his head back against the headboard.

“Kneel,” Obi-Wan said, shifting his weight so he was kneeling himself.

Qui-Gon shifted, managing to get his legs underneath him, hips jutting upwards as Qui-Gon realised that, by kneeling, the slack in the cord around his wrists disappeared. He leaned back further, cock bobbing in the air as Qui-Gon tried to release the tension already building in his shoulders.

The cord around his wrists was tight, with little slack, but Qui-Gon realised that he could reach the knot to undo it easily if he sat back against the headboard and leaned to the side. Affection softened his gaze and Qui-Gon stared at Obi-Wan with warmth in his eyes.

Obi-Wan noticed the way his gaze softened and smiled. Qui-Gon raised his head slowly, jutting his chin out, giving Obi-Wan a directly challenging gaze.

 _Get on with the game_ , it said.

Obi-Wan’s smile turned into a slow smirk. _Make me_.

Qui-Gon sighed when Obi-Wan crawled towards him on his hands and knees, the box deposited on the bed, a hungry look on his face. Hovering inches from Qui-Gon’s face, Obi-Wan’s eyes darted off his features, lingering on his parted lips. A pink tongue darted out, wetting Obi-Wan’s lips. Qui-Gon held himself still, forcing himself not to move.

God but he wanted to lean forward, close that little bit of distance and-

Obi-Wan moved back and Qui-Gon groaned in quiet frustration. The sparking amusement in Obi-Wan’s eyes told him that Obi-Wan was well-aware what his behaviour was doing to Qui-Gon.

 _Devil._ Absolute _devil._

“What do you want Qui?” Obi-Wan asked, voice soft as he dropped his hand into the box, rummaging around for something. Qui-Gon couldn’t see what, but with what was actually inside it… well he had some ideas.

A bead of pre-cum rolled down the side of Qui-Gon’s cock, the sensation of cool air on the path it made making Qui-Gon shiver. “Anything you’re willing to give me Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon answered quietly, voice deeper than his usual baritone. Huskier too.

“Hmm.” Obi-Wan tapped his lip thoughtfully, almost as though he was contemplating Qui-Gon’s words but the flame in his eyes belied his actions.

Obi-Wan smiled.

Qui-Gon suppressed the urge to moan aloud.

“Well then,” Obi-Wan said, pulling out a small bottle from the box, flicking the lid open with his thumb. “I suppose you’ll be waiting a while.”

Qui-Gon licked his lips, gaze dark and hungry. Obi-Wan’s smile grew, the fingers on his lips pressing against his lips, parting them and Qui-Gon moaned, watching Obi-Wan suck two fingers into his mouth.

“Oh God,” Qui-Gon breathed, eyes burning with the need to blink as he stared at Obi-Wan, the sound of him sucking on his fingers echoing in Qui-Gon’s ears. “ _Fuck_.”

Obi-Wan pulled his fingers out with a pop and grinned widely. “In time.” He promised, upturning the bottle and squirting clear, gel-like liquid into the palm of his hand. “In time.”

Qui-Gon pulled against the cord around his wrists, hands clenched, cock aching, beads of pre-cum rolling down the head to the base. Fucking _hell_.

Obi-Wan dropped the bottle on the bed, shifting around until he was kneeling less than a foot from Qui-Gon, body stretched. He ran his hands down his chest, robe falling from his shoulders, hanging on his arms, revealing sun-kissed skin Qui-Gon hadn’t touched intimately in _days_. The sight of it had him jerking his hips, burning with need.

Obi-Wan huffed an amused breath, hand dropping down to his underwear, the bulge in them obvious and straining. He pushed his hand into them, the band pulling down with his wrist, and let out a gasping moan as he grasped his cock in his lube-covered hand.

“Oh God.” He moaned, thrusting forward, other hand pushing at his underwear, freeing his cock and allowing him to fist himself.

Qui-Gon hissed in pain, pulling harshly on the cord around his wrists, the sharp spike of fleeting pain barely enough to keep him from trying to fuck the air desperately. Obi-Wan’s eyes had slipped shut when he touched his cock, but they opened now, fixing on Qui-Gon, fire burning in them and making Qui-Gon’s skin prickle.

“This feels so good,” Obi-Wan moaned, hips stuttering as he rubbed his thumb over the head of his cock, pressing into the slit slightly. “It’d feel so much better if it was your hand though Qui.”

Qui-Gon moaned desperately, head falling back. He breathed heavily, chest heaving. “ _Fuck_ Obi-Wan! Please don’t say things like that when I can’t _touch_ _you_!”

Obi-Wan laughed. “But now is the best time Qui,” Obi-Wan disagreed, voice breathy. “I get to do whatever I want and you can’t do a thing about it.”

Qui-Gon’s head dropped forward and he forced his eyes open, locking them with Obi-Wan’s heated gaze. “That’s right.” Qui-Gon agreed. “I can’t do a thing about it.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze narrowed for a moment, hand stilling on his cock. He stared at Qui-Gon, sudden tension in his frame.

“You can do anything right now Obi-Wan, anything you want and I can’t stop you,” Qui-Gon said, refusing to look away. His cock ached so much it _hurt_. “But I _can_ watch you.”

Obi-Wan gasped, hand on his cock twitching. The tension in his body fading, replaced with trembling desire.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan whispered huskily. “Y-you can watch as I fuck myself, not able to do anything to help.” Obi-Wan’s gaze burned, a sultry smirk growing on his face.

Qui-Gon’s throat was dry, pupils dilated so wide his eyes were near black pool of desire. His hands clenched into fists, muscles in his arms tense. “Yes,” he croaked, nodding, cock leaking.

“Good.” Obi-Wan shifted on the bed, pulling at his underwear, rolling them down his legs, throwing them to the side blindly as he leaned forward and plucked a pillow from the top of the bed, breath ghosting over Qui-Gon’s heated, sensitive skin.

Qui-Gon moaned, breathing laboured and Obi-Wan smirked at him, moving away slowly, dropping the pillow on the bed and sitting on it. Angling his body so that his ass was raised from the bed slightly, legs bent at the knee, feet planted firmly, Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon as he picked up the bottle of lube and poured more of it onto his hand, dropping it back on the bed.

Qui-Gon’s gaze was locked on Obi-Wan’s hands, watching avidly as he worked the lube into his skin, sliding the tips of his fingers along the base of his fingers, twisting and turning his hands until they glistened in the soft light of the bedside lamp. The sunlight was all but gone now, leaving the lamp as the only remaining light source in the large apartment.

It made everything so much more intimate and arousing that Qui-Gon found himself stifling another moan as Obi-Wan separated his hands, dropping them to rub along his thighs, leaving a glistening trail as his fingers kneaded flesh.

Obi-Wan ran his hand along his thigh, fingers tracing the skin lightly, gaze on Qui-Gon, watching his reaction to Obi-Wan’s movements, and he bit back a laugh when Qui-Gon moaned as Obi-Wan slid his hand down between his legs, fondling his balls with nimble fingers.

Obi-Wan gasped, rocking his hips, rubbing at his perineum with his fingertips, cock leaking beads of pre-cum. Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan let out a throaty moan, his other hand behind him, kneading his ass. Obi-Wan pressed against his entrance with a finger, pushing softly against the tight ring of muscle over-and-over, other hand still fondling his balls.

The sight of Obi-Wan rocking, cock straining, hand between his legs, playing with his balls, other on his ass, had Qui-Gon’s cock aching so much he felt like he could come from the sight alone. He moaned, hands going numb from the way he pulled on the cords around them, neck muscles so tense the artery in his neck stood out, thumping in tandem with the echo of blood pounding in his veins.

Obi-Wan groaned, working a finger inside, pressing into the tight ring of muscle, sliding his finger in and out in a slow, repetitive motion that made him quiver. The sight of Qui-Gon, tied to the headboard, straining against the cord around his wrists, body tense and shaking, cock leaking and erect, made Obi-Wan gasp and he pressed a second finger in to join the first.

His hips thrust forward in tiny rocking motions, hand on his balls moving to grip the base of his cock, staving off the climax he was so close to, Obi-Wan threw his head back, grinding down on the fingers inside him.

“Oh oh God,” Obi-Wan stuttered, mouth open, panting loud breaths, rolling his hips, twisting his fingers inside his ass. “O-oh God _Qui_.”

Qui-Gon moaned wantonly, arching up, knees shifting and spreading as far as he could, cock throbbing and he felt like he was going to come from the sight of Obi-Wan fucking himself on his fingers alone. “Obi-Wan.” His voice sounded broken, desperate and hungry.

“Your cock would be so nice right now,” Obi-Wan breathed, adding a third finger inside himself, gasping at the way his muscles contracted around his fingers. Fuck he was so tight!

“Christ!” Qui-Gon cried, eyes screwed shut, head falling forward. “Oh God Obi-Wan _please_ ,” he whispered. Begged.

Obi-Wan stopped moving, fingers stilling inside his ass and he stifled a whimper. “Please what Qui?” Obi-Wan asked, staring at Qui-Gon. “You said it yourself, you only get to watch.” He smirked. “Though maybe you shouldn’t even be allowed that?”

Qui-Gon hung his head but he stared at Obi-Wan through his lashes, strands of his hair hanging in front of him, the silvery-brown catching the light of the lamp and turning a burnished bronze. Obi-Wan’s mouth went dry at the visage Qui-Gon presented.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” Qui-Gon whispered, eyes heavy and full of want. His voice was deep and guttural. “Maybe you could fuck yourself with your fingers so far up your ass that you come from that alone.” Obi-Wan gasped, fingers spasming inside his ass and making him moan. “Maybe you could fuck your hand with your cock after, losing yourself in the pained pleasure of a dry orgasm as well. Maybe…”

Qui-Gon lifted his head, staring at Obi-Wan, a burning challenge in his eyes. “You can do whatever you want right now, and you always will be able to. Maybe I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, even if I want so much to touch you, to fuck you so hard you pass out when you come.” Qui-Gon’s chest heaved. “Maybe you can do anything to me right now and I’ll let you because I love you Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan’s heart stopped in his chest.

“Maybe I love you and I will let you take everything I am and destroy it and I’ll smile as you do because all I want is for you to be happy Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon’s voice dropped to a whisper, gaze intense. “I love you Obi-Wan and I always will.”

Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon, speechless. How _the_ _fuck_ is he meant to react to that?

“Qui…” Obi-Wan trailed off. “I- I-” His hands clenched unconsciously and Obi-Wan’s stomach muscles twitched. “Oh fuck it!” He snarled, pulling his fingers out of his ass. He crawled toward Qui-Gon, the bottle of lube rolling on the bed as he shifted his weight. He leaned forward, sealing his lips over Qui-Gon’s.

Qui-Gon moaned, straining up against the restraints, gasping into the kiss when Obi-Wan settled across his crotch, grinding down on his cock. Breaking the kiss Qui-Gon panted, eyes shut, trying to breathe. “I- God I love you,” he said, arching up against Obi-Wan, pressing against Obi-Wan’s chest, moaning at the electric contact. “I love you so much Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan nipped at his neck, rolling his hips, Qui-Gon’s cock rubbing into the cleft of his ass. He reached over and pulled the knot, freeing Qui-Gon’s right arm.

Ignoring the way his fingers tingled, Qui-Gon wasted no time in wrapping his arm around Obi-Wan’s waist, thrusting up, cock sliding along Obi-Wan’s perineum, eliciting a moaning gasp from the man above him. Obi-Wan’s hand trembled as he undid the other knot, pulling the cord loose, other hand tangled in Qui-Gon’s hair.

The blue robe still around him draped over his legs, and Obi-Wan shuffled it off one arm before he gripped Qui-Gon’s arm, pulling his hand out of Qui-Gon’s hair long enough to shake out of the sleeve and drop the robe on the bed. Qui-Gon’s left hand snaked down, curling around Obi-Wan’s cock and stroking the throbbing shaft, making Obi-Wan moan and bite down on Qui-Gon’s collarbone. Qui-Gon hissed out a breath, thrusting up against Obi-Wan.

“You drive me mad,” Qui-Gon murmured into Obi-Wan’s ear, tongue darting out and licking the shell of his ear. “I look at you and I see this brilliant, fantastic man who has survived so damned much and refuses to break. I look at you and I think I’m the luckiest person alive to be able to know you like this, to be able to touch you and love you.” Qui-Gon nuzzled Obi-Wan’s cheek, hand stroking slowly up and down Obi-Wan’s cock. Obi-Wan trembled against him. “I want to hide you away from the world, protect you from anything and everything that could ever hurt you. I want to see you love freely and without fear, even if what you love isn’t me. I want you to be happy and live a life free of pain and loss and fear and doubt and to have the power and strength you hide so well burn anyone who tries to make you be less than you are.”

Obi-Wan whimpered, mouthing words against Qui-Gon’s skin, hand tangled in Qui-Gon’s hair. “Oh God Qui- God I-”

Qui-Gon kissed his cheek softly, smiling softly. “I know,” he said. “I know.”

Obi-Wan let go of Qui-Gon’s arm, hand slipping behind him and down, reaching. Qui-Gon breathed out a heavy moan against Obi-Wan’s neck when Obi-Wan’s hand wrapped around his cock, guiding it.

“Are you sure?” Qui-Gon asked, voice a quiet murmur against Obi-Wan’s skin.

He felt Obi-Wan nod. “More sure than I’ve ever been,” Obi-Wan replied and without another word he sank down on Qui-Gon’s cock, muscles twitching and convulsing as the girth of Qui-Gon’s cock pushed slowly and relentlessly.

Qui-Gon sucked in air, clenching his teeth together, lips drawn back, fighting every urge to thrust upwards and bury himself inside Obi-Wan. “F-fuck.”

Obi-Wan moaned, Qui-Gon’s length stretching him and making him ache in an entirely new way. “T-that’s the plan,” Obi-Wan said, arching, head thrown back when Qui-Gon shifted, driving his cock deeper. “Oh, oh _fuck!_ ”

“That’s the plan,” Qui-Gon quipped, grinning when Obi-Wan’s eyes opened, glaring down at him. Qui-Gon deliberately rolled his hips, feeling Obi-Wan’s muscles clench around him. Obi-Wan moaned, hand in Qui-Gon’s hair tugging on the strands. “Though,” Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. “You did mention something about riding my cock so…” He trailed off.

Obi-Wan grinned, clenching around Qui-Gon’s cock deliberately, grinding down at the same time and making Qui-Gon groan. “I did didn’t I.” Obi-Wan agreed.

“Well then,” Obi-Wan said, lifting his ass, feeling Qui-Gon’s cock sliding out of ass until only the tip remained. He clenched his muscles again, Qui-Gon’s hands on his hips tightening, fingers digging into his skin. “I’d best get on with that then.”

Qui-Gon opened his mouth, letting out a wordless cry as Obi-Wan began riding his cock, rocking his hips in a pistoning motion. His fingers dug into Obi-Wan’s hips as Qui-Gon fought not to thrust up into that tight heat, cock throbbing with each thrust Obi-Wan made.

He wasn’t going to last.

“God Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon cried, eyes wide as he stared at Obi-Wan. “I- I’m _so_ _close_.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes burned, pupils dilated, eating the blue-green of his eyes leaving only a thin ring that seemed to glow. His face was flushed, skin damp with sweat, hair sticking up, hands gripping Qui-Gon’s shoulders in a painful grip. “So, so am I.” He confessed, canting his hips and grinding down on Qui-Gon’s cock, changing the angle just enough. “ _Oh God!_ ”

Qui-Gon cried out, muscles around his cock spasming as Obi-Wan came, mouth open wide in a silent cry, eyes shut, body tensing. Qui-Gon thrust up, unable to help himself, the spasming heat of Obi-Wan’s body too much to resist and with a hissed out breath Qui-Gon came, cock nestled inside Obi-Wan’s body.

Obi-Wan slumped against him, panting breaths against Qui-Gon’s overheated skin. Qui-Gon wrapped an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders, head tilted back resting against the headboard. He stared up at the ceiling, dimly illuminated by the lamp by the bed. Qui-Gon smiled.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon murmured, tilting his head to the side, resting against Obi-Wan’s head. His smile widened at the hummed response. “You need to get off me love before we end up stuck together.”

Obi-Wan mumbled something into Qui-Gon’s neck and Qui-Gon’s eyes softened. “I didn’t catch that.”

Obi-Wan raised his head slowly, looking at Qui-Gon with tired, warm eyes. “I said: I like the idea of us being stuck together.”

Qui-Gon’s breath caught in his throat. His smiled grew so wide it almost hurt. “So do I,” Qui-Gon said, leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to Obi-Wan’s lips. “But not quite like this I’m afraid.” He raised an amused eyebrow.

Obi-Wan smiled. “Well I suppose, if you insist.”

“I do.” Qui-Gon nodded. “The shower is a walk-in after all,” he added, smile becoming a suggestive smirk.

Obi-Wan grinned.

 

*  *  *  *  *

 

 

11th August, 2015:

Obi-Wan sipped his tea calmly, watching. With trembling hands Garen ripped opened the envelope in his hands, beads of sweat on his forehead. He pulled out the folded letter gingerly, grimacing as he stared down at it.

“It’s not going to bite you Garen,” Obi-Wan quipped, smirking. Garen threw a glare at him.

“I think I’d prefer it if it did,” Garen muttered nervously. He took a deep breath, held it and then let it out in a whoosh. “Okay I’m gonna read it.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, watching as Garen didn’t move. Rolling his eyes Obi-Wan put down his tea and plucked the letter from Garen’s hands at the same time.

“Hey!” Garen exclaimed flailing and trying to grab the letter back. Obi-Wan dodged his flailing arms and flicked the letter open. “Obi-Wan!”

Obi-Wan ignored him, scanning the lines on the page.

“Obi-Wan I swear to God if you don’t-” Obi-Wan looked at Garen who stopped speaking abruptly, staring at Obi-Wan’s wide, surprised eyes. “What?” Garen asked. “Obi-Wan what did they say?”

Obi-Wan continued to stare at him and Garen grimaced. “Oh no. They rejected me didn’t they? Oh fuck they did. Oh fuck.”

“If by rejected you mean ‘offered you an entire scholarship, fully-paid with accommodation on the campus’ then yes, they definitely rejected you,” Obi-Wan grinned, turning the letter around so Garen could read it.

“I- you-” Garen stuttered, staring at the letter. He looked at Obi-Wan. “ _You_ _fucker_!”

Obi-Wan launched himself out of the booth, Garen barrelling after him, shouting curses as they ran through the café. “Your face though!” Obi-Wan called over his shoulder, grinning. “I couldn’t resist!”

“You are a fucking shit!” Garen shouted, nearing running into a group of teens watching them. He managed to dodge them at the last second, letting out a curse as he stumbled.

“And you are running in my café,” Qui-Gon said calmly, leaning against the counter, Obi-Wan stood behind him, panting with a huge grin on his face.

Garen skidded to a halt, chest heaving as he stared at Qui-Gon with wide, innocent eyes. “Uh no?”

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow.

“Obi-Wan started it!” Garen said defensively, raising his hands up. “Blame him!”

“Obi-Wan isn’t who I saw running through my café like a rampaging elephant,” Qui-Gon pointed out dryly and Obi-Wan snorted.

Garen grinned unrepentantly. “Yeah but a rampaging elephant wouldn’t have dodged every table in here.” Garen pointed out, waggling his eyebrows.

Qui-Gon inclined his head in agreement. “True.”

Garen beamed. “But the elephant would be prettier to look at,” Qui-Gon added, smirking when Garen spluttered.

“You’re perfect for each other!” Garen cried, throwing his hands up in the air. “You’re both assholes to me!”

“You make it so easy Garen,” Obi-Wan said, grinning brightly. “We can’t help but torture you, it means we love you.”

Garen muttered something under his breath, probably a threat or promise to destroy Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan laughed.

“Why am I your friend?” Garen sighed, gesturing with a hand as he continued. “Oh right yeah! I remember now: because you demanded I be your friend after murdering your shitty pizza. How could I forget?”

Qui-Gon chuckled, turning his attention to Obi-Wan who looked at him. “You know; you didn’t mention that part when you told me that story?” He said, amused.

“Well I had to convince you I was a poor, innocent victim of Garen’s waffle torture,” Obi-Wan replied, grinning. “If you’d known I demanded his loyalty you might have run for the hills.”

“Not unless you were with me,” Qui-Gon said softly, smiling at Obi-Wan who smiled back.

“You’re honestly both so cute I feel sick just watching you,” Garen said, grinning when Obi-Wan glared at him.

“Go visit the closet with Reeft,” Obi-Wan shot back, smirking when Garen blushed.

“Low blow,” Garen muttered and Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Okay I’m leaving, I’m gone. _Jeez_.”

Watching Garen leave Obi-Wan leaned lightly against Qui-Gon, resting a hand on the small of Qui-Gon’s back. “When are you going to close the café for the night?” Obi-Wan asked quietly.

“I’m not,” Qui-Gon answered, suppressing a smile when Obi-Wan frowned.

“So what-” Obi-Wan began but Qui-Gon turned and looked at him.

“Wolffe is covering the nightshift with his brother Rex.” Qui-Gon explained, watching as realisation dawned in Obi-Wan’s eyes. “I thought it was about time I hired someone else full-time to work the nights.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Well you _are_ the owner after all.” He pointed out, resting an elbow on the counter in front of Qui-Gon, hips canted suggestively. “But whatever are you going to do with all that free time?”

Qui-Gon tilted his head, playing along. “Paperwork I suppose,” he said, smiling when Obi-Wan raised a brow at him. “Or perhaps catch up on the plethora of films I’ve missed in the last decade.”

Obi-Wan smirked, eyes bright with mischief as he spoke. “Or you could Netflix and chill with your boyfriend.”

“I _could_ do that yes,” Qui-Gon acknowledged, giving Obi-Wan a considering look that was belied by the amusement in his eyes.

“Oh I insist,” Obi-Wan said, leaning closer, smirk widening as he rested his chin on his hand. “After all, it could be fun.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Qui-Gon agreed, lips upturned. “But work calls.”

“I love you,” Obi-Wan murmured, just as Qui-Gon began to turn away from him. Qui-Gon froze, eyes locking with Obi-Wan’s. “I love you so much I think I’m going to explode from it all.”

Qui-Gon eyes widened even as he smiled. “And I you Obi-Wan,” he said, reaching out and giving Obi-Wan’s face a brief caress. “And I you.” He turned away, dropping his hand to his side.

Obi-Wan watched as Qui-Gon moved away, smiling at the way he greeted a group of students at the door who were looking around curiously. Newcomers. Watching the way Qui-Gon spoke to them, smiling and generally being the politest person on the planet, Obi-Wan felt a burst of adoration for the man infused with love and such fierce protectiveness it surprised him.

Qui-Gon was everything to him now. He couldn’t imagine his life without him, not after everything. Everything they had gone through, everything Obi-Wan had ever experienced in his supremely fucked up life had once meant he had seriously doubted he’d ever be happy with someone in his life ever again. He honestly come to accept that he’d simply exist, content to live and for his family to be safe.

Instead, only months after meeting Qui-Gon in the rain one night, he had gone through hell and come out the other side, was in a relationship with a man who he honestly loved with everything he was, and free of the man who had haunted his life for over six years.

Some of the things he’d suffered, some of the things Palpatine had done to him… Obi-Wan doubted he’d ever be able to speak of in the light of day. But maybe in the dead of night, in Qui-Gon’s arms, safe from the world and all the horror in it.

Maybe he’d be able to talk about it then.

But for now Obi-Wan had a future free of his past to look forward to, a job at the local museum and the heart of a man who had literally killed for him.

There were worse places to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments on this will literally make me so damned happy, even if you don't say anything other than exclamation points and incoherent screaming because, at this point, that's pretty much all I seem capable of producing for this fic lmao.
> 
> Thank you for reading this and getting this far. I love you all!


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